


The Slayer and the Squib

by Hijja



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-06
Updated: 2018-01-05
Packaged: 2019-03-01 00:16:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 25,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13282896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hijja/pseuds/Hijja
Summary: Rupert Giles faces his wizarding past, Buffy Summers deals with the pitfalls of being a Hogwarts professor, Snape is... well, Snape, and Harry Potter wonders just *what* he has done to deserve this... (HP/BtVS crossover)





	1. The Lure of the Unknown

**Author's Note:**

> Written in 2003 and 2004, and sadly unfinished.
> 
> Timelines: Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, and shortly after the end of Season 7 of BtVS...
> 
> For my beloved Thea, on the occasion of her birthday. Would I be caught writing a clichéd plot like this for any other reason? Many heartfelt thanks to Spookykat for beta and input! The story is gen, but M/F and M/M relationships are mentioned.

"Hi, Giles, how was your talk with England?" Buffy greeted him cheerfully when he walked through the door of the bungalow. "You have soot on your cheek, by the way."

Rupert Giles took off his glasses and rubbed the centre of his forehead to relieve the ache that had been building there. He looked down at the petite woman whose cheerfulness was still, two months after a huge abyss had swallowed both Sunnydale and its Hellmouth, a brittle surface mask. He wondered how she would react to his proposal - awe, laughter, a punch in the face, all were realistic possibilities.

"Perhaps we should discuss it in the kitchen," he stalled. "I'd rather talk about it sitting down." It was harder to punch across the length of a tabletop, even for the slayer.

A tiny frown creased her head, and the usually spirited expression went blank.

"Fine." She turned around abruptly and preceded him into the kitchen, which was actually the largest room in the bungalow.

"Hi Buffy, Giles." Willow Rosenberg looked up from a bag of groceries she was emptying and gave them a smile. "By the way, you have soot on your face, Giles." Her expression turned to alarm when she saw their faces.

"Should I..."

Giles shook his head.

"No, please stay. You might be interested as well."

Even after two months, their lives were at a standstill here, close to the crater, as if somebody had hit them with the pause button of a remote. Giles wondered if Buffy still listened at night for the door to open to admit a certain vampire. He knew Xander still listened for Anja's footsteps - he'd told him so after an intimate rendezvous with half a bottle of whisky.

Buffy sat on one of the chairs, back held stiffly upright.

"So they've asked you to come back," she asked without looking at him. She had to mean the remnants of the Watchers, of course.

"In a way," he replied carefully after a pause.

"So when are you leaving?"

The tone of her voice made Giles sigh quietly. Something in their relationship had shattered when he had left for England the first time a year ago, and he had no idea how to repair it, if that was at all possible. It was terribly hard to re-establish trust, he knew that much, and he had put an incredible strain on what little had remained by conspiring against the, well, unlife, of Buffy's lover.

"Well, actually," he began carefully, "I did receive a job offer, but there were inquiries about you as well." Her heart-shaped face scrunched up in surprise, but he continued before she could interrupt. "Have you ever considered a teaching position? As a profession, I mean," he added quickly when the footsteps of a gaggle of homeless girl slayers pattered down the corridor outside in a mad rush for the door.

"Teaching?" Buffy rubbed her nose in an unconscious imitation of Giles' mannerisms, which made the corner of Willow's mouth quirk up. "I haven't been such a hit at counselling..." she admitted, and then her head flew up. "Dammit, Giles, what are you talking about? Who asked about me?"

Bugger! Yes, that was the hard part.

"Well," he paused again, and looked through the window pane at the street outside, where Xander's legs were dangling out from under the battered old pickup they had bought after the bus had died on them. An assortment of tools lay next to him.

"There is a school for wizards in Scotland that badly needs a teacher for... well, for dealing with Dark creatures and such. They asked me to inform you of that vacancy and wonder if you would consider teaching for them for a year, at least."

Her eyes went round.

"Me? Surely that should be Willow." Willow coughed and Giles shot her a pained look.

"Actually, they're pretty... well-equipped when it comes to magic. But it seems that a powerful evil wizard is making his comeback and is trying to win over as many Dark creatures as possible to his side. You'd be an ideal candidate to train the school's youngsters in Defence against those."

"Youngsters?" There was a considerable note of panic in Buffy's voice, and Giles shrugged sheepishly.

"Well - it's a school, you see."

"And they want me to... defeat that evil wizard as well?"

"Goodness, no!" Giles exclaimed. "No, I think they have somebody marked out for that already. You'd only have to share your Defence knowledge, and train with the students - I was told that they have a teacher ready to take over the magical components of the classes."

Buffy fidgeted, wrapping one of her braids around a finger restlessly.

"I just don't know, Giles. I mean, Scotland... that's almost in Europe, right? I don't speak Brit! And you... you're a member of that, what's it called, coven?"

That almost made him smile. "It's a bit larger than a coven, and to answer your question, I'm not sure... I left them a long time ago, and they weren't exactly keen on me either." He pondered the question seriously for a moment. "But I'm not sure you can actually leave them for good."

"Giles!" Buffy crossed her arms in front of her chest in frustration. "Spill! If you want me to work for those people, I want to know what I'm getting into here. Might be getting into here," she amended.

"Uh... that's the problem, actually. I'm not supposed to tell Muggles about them, and the American Ministry is even more paranoid than the British one ever since that Salem incident..."

"Ministry? Muggles? Who the hell is Muggles?"

"Muggle," said Giles.

"Non-magical person," supplied Willow, followed by, "Oops!"

Buffy rounded on her and glared. "You know about this?"

Willow chewed on her lower lip in distress. "Ah... well... remember that witch circle in England where I went after trying to destroy the world?"

"That was them? That school?"

Willow nodded. "Only over the holidays, of course. And I'm afraid it's not exactly a witch circle. More like a really huge secret society." She emphasised it with a sweeping gesture. "But I couldn't tell anybody. It's supposed to be a really secret secret, and they do pretty nasty spells on people who know too much. Like Men in Black, only without the guns. They use wands, actually."

Buffy pulled a face at that. "Wands? And dressing gowns and pointed hats? What?" she added incredulously. "No broomsticks?"

Giles fell prey to a sudden coughing fit.

"They have broomsticks?" she blurted out.

"You don't want to know!" he insisted forcefully.

Buffy stared at him sternly, with a glint of amusement in her eyes that Giles had missed for a long time.

"Believe me, I do want to know. And you'll tell me everything about it right now if you know what's good for you."

~~~ 

A few minutes later, they had settled around the table, with a cup of Assam blend for Giles, a cup of that horrid instant coffee whose mere smell made him nauseous for Willow, and a diet cream soda for Buffy. The eyes of both girls were trained expectantly on Giles. Which just wasn't fair, he thought - pretty young women shouldn't look so much like bloodthirsty sharks.

"It's called the 'wizarding world'," he started dejectedly. "People with magical powers, who live in their own society, hidden from Muggles. That's, as Willow said-"

"-not magical guys, I heard," Buffy interrupted. "And you're one of those... wizarding persons?"

Giles felt the old, familiar, painful sting at the question. You're pathetic, he scorned himself, but it didn't go away.

"No. I'm not a wizard. Oh, my family are, my father's been a senior Unspeakable in the Department of Mysteries, but I'm little more than a squib."

He noted the bewildered expression on both faces and realised he'd lost them, even Willow. Weird, it took no more than a fireplace talk with Albus Dumbledore and he fell right back into the lingo he'd been so careful to suppress all those years.

"Your father's an unspeakable mystery and you're a squid?" Buffy shook her head. "Giles, are you drunk? Did Ethan Rayne drop by to feed you sweets again?"

"No!" They flinched, and Giles realised he had yelled at them without meaning to. It was just that the last thing he wanted to do was talk about the wizarding world and think about Ethan at the same time.

He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry. It's 'squib', not 'squid' - it means I was born with a wizard's bloodline, but without the power. I haven't carried a wand for ages - not that it would do me a lot of good," he added bitterly. "And the Department of Mysteries is a semi-independent subdivision within the Ministry of Magic - the wizarding government. Its members are called Unspeakables, because nobody knows exactly what they're up to. The members of my family have worked as liaisons with the Muggle Watcher organisation for centuries."

"Didn't you say your father owned a museum?" Buffy asked suspiciously.

"He did. It was the building right above the Department of Mystery's Hall of Prophecies. Very convenient, that. The Hall is supposed to be quite spectacular, but I've never been there, of course."

"So they haven't asked you to teach magic?" Willow asked softly.

Giles shook his head. "No - Muggle Studies. My... predecessor seems to have decided Hogwarts was too dangerous a place now that You-Know-Who has returned."

"No, I-Don't-Know-Who." Buffy objected and shook her head in denial. "I don't have a clue, really."

"Oh, sorry," Giles apologised with a sigh. "The Dark wizard I mentioned. People don't like to speak his name. Names are powerful, as they say in Ancient Runes."

"So you want to drag me to your old school?" Buffy pushed on.

He shook his head again. "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. No, I did not get a letter." The acrid disappointment of his father still burned deep in Giles' memory. It was no excuse for what he'd done to the old man in return, but the sting was still alive. "My brother did, though, and he told me about it." Gloated in smug superiority, to be precise, he added silently to himself.

"I didn't know you had a brother," Buffy said, sounding vaguely hurt.

Giles shrugged. "He's dead."

"Oh Goddess, Giles, I'm sorry," Willow whispered. "Was it that... that Dark wizard?"

Another shrug. "No, not at all. He was working on a biography of Dundrick the Downright Doomed, a thirteenth century warlock, and an iron-cast bust of Dundrick fell on his head when he was doing research at The Deadfalls, Dundric's mansion."

Willow recoiled, obviously torn between horror and laughter, and Giles realised, to his vague surprise, that the memory of Melchior Giles' death did not sting at all. He slapped himself mentally and shoved that fragment of Ripper back down to the back of his consciousness.

"And you've already made up your mind?" Buffy asked.

Giles shook his head. "No. I have told Dumbledore - that's the Headmaster - that I would consult with you, and adopt your decision as my own." He met her eyes firmly. "I don't want this enough to leave you to deal with the fallout of this summer alone, Buffy."

She took a deep swig from her can.

"What about the others - Dawn, Xander, the girls..."

"Dumbledore offered to bring everybody we wanted." Giles knew that the Ministry would give the old man hell for breaching the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy for such a crowd, but well, that was going to be Dumbledore's problem, wasn't it?

"Hm..." That was Willow. "I'm not sure if the girls would appreciate another culture shock so quickly after the last," she interjected. "Perhaps - if you and Buffy decide to move to Scotland, that is - they would be happier in Faith's and Wood's company here."

Privately, Giles agreed. Faith was surprisingly good with adolescent girls, and he was ready to bet that she wouldn't mind at all filling Buffy's shoes again.

"You're probably right," Buffy admitted reluctantly. "But what about Dawn? Could we enrol her in the school? Being an ex-key and all? She should qualify as a witch, right?"

Giles shared a sceptical look with Willow, but nodded. "As I said, you can bring whoever you want. I already told Dumbledore you had a sister."

"And if she doesn't want to go, I think between myself, Faith and Wood we can manage her just fine," Willow added.

"But Wills... you'll come, won't you?" Buffy asked, looking decidedly panicked.

Willow shook her head.

"I don't think so. I've caused enough cases of high blood-pressure the last time I stayed there, and they certainly preferred to see me leave rather than arrive."

Giles reached over to put his hand on hers and objected firmly,

"That's not true, Willow. They liked you very much. Dumbledore told you, again and again, that what happened was not your fault. Muggleborn witches and wizards are a danger to their surroundings only if they're not trained properly. And in your case, it was the New York Ministry that was at fault, not you. You should have got your invite to the Salem Institute as a child - it's their fault that they messed it up."

"You mean there's a similar school here," Buffy asked in astonishment.

Giles nodded. "The Salem Witches Institute, and the Salt Lake Advanced Academy for Young Wizards. The magical community still believes in segregation of the sexes in this backwater of a country." Giles snorted. "Not that the American Ministry would give me the time of day after I got on their case about Willow."

"They were responsible for what happened?" Buffy inquired with her best 'I'm going to kick their arses ten ways to Sunday' expression.

"Well, they're supposed to detect Muggleborn witches and wizards," Giles replied. "Though Willow was born in Sunnydale, and the Hellmouth did wreak havoc with most Magidectors - that's instruments to measure magical activity," he added quickly. "Still, that should have been taken into account, especially since they knew it would augment the powers of any magical child born in the vicinity. They were sloppy."

"Funny, out of all the untrained witches I read about in Hogwarts' records, I'm the only one who became the Wicked Witch of the West and tried to wipe out the human species," Willow pointed out in a subdued voice. "No matter what Professor Dumbledore said."

She waved off Giles' objection, and added, in a slightly more cheerful tone, "Anyway, me and Kennedy, we're just about to make things work." Giles observed Buffy's disappointed look, but also the slight upcurl of her mouth at Willow's decidedly dreamy expression. "But she's only just beginning to accept that she's sleeping with a witch," Willow added, "and I would hate to spring that world on her right now." She looked at Buffy intently. "Anyway, it won't even be a full year... if you don't like it, you'll be back soon enough."

"You think I should do it, then?"

The two girls shared a long, meaningful look.

"I think you should do it," Willow confirmed softly. "You need to get out of here. And it'll be a whole new world - you'll be too busy to look back, and I think that's just what you need."

Buffy stared out of the window, fingers playing absent-mindedly with her soda can as if another sip would settle her decision.

"What do you think, Giles?"

"I'd be glad to go with you," he confessed, even if secretly the idea of walking right into the heart of the wizarding world, squib that he was, filled him with holy terror. It shouldn't! his inner voice insisted harshly. It is your world as well. You have every right to be there!

He followed Buffy's glance out of the window, at the figure under the pickup, and Willow spoke his thoughts out aloud.

"And I think you should take Xander."

Yes, Giles thought. He needs a new world as well.

"They could use an assistant caretaker," he said.

"And you'll like Professor Dumbledore, Buffy," Willow threw in. "He's one of the most impressive people I've ever met."

Buffy raised an eyebrow. "He's cute, then?"

A laugh escaped Willow's lips, and Giles couldn't suppress a lopsided grin himself.

"Cute in a way, yes," Willow chuckled. "And about as old as Angel. Only he looks it."

Buffy let out a deep, resigned sigh.

"Somehow I think I'm going to regret this," she mumbled. "Hell, somehow I think those kids are going to regret this. But ok, I'm in." She finished her soda, stood up purposefully and asked, "When does their term start, anyway?"

"Ah, well, that's..." Giles hedged. "Well, the headmaster had some problems filling the Defence position because it's jinxed, so you were the very last resort..." he stammered, faltering under her glare.

"Life would be a lot easier for everyone around if you'd just spill, Giles."

"In three days, actually."

Buffy sank back on her chair and banged her head on the tabletop with an audible crack.

"Damn you, Giles!"

 **Next:**  
Magical Travels, the Ministry, Creature Wars


	2. Magical Creature, Anyone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Thea, for Christmas - hey, it's cheaper than a present! And Spookykat's beta saved my life (and Buffy's voice) again. If it's a good pun, it's hers! Some concepts have been filched from Arthur Miller's _Death of a Salesman_ , Bram Stoker's _Dracula_ , Star Trek and a silly Marvel comic book.

Floo Powder, Buffy groused as she stumbled out of the fire crate, was an invention from the deepest pits of hell. It ranked on the Master List of Evil Things of Doom right up there with telemarketers, Microsoft products, and plaid.

Giles had birded - or whatever it was called - her the stuff from New York, where he was busy organising 'transatlantic transportation'. It had arrived attached to a bloody moody horned owl that had catapulted itself through the bathroom window and pecked Dawn viciously before Willow could run up to her room and get some weird souvenir coins from her trip to the wizard world to pay it with. It should have tipped them off instantly that the actual travelling wouldn't be up to civilised standards either.

Here she had dressed extra carefully and spent forty minutes on makeup and hair, only to get doused in soot fifteen minutes into the trip. Next to her, Willow was brushing ashes from her hair and ankle-length dark purple dress. Buffy blinked and rubbed her face. Surely slayer powers should make one immune against ash in the eye. Damn wizards!

Damn clumsy friends! was her next thought when Xander crashed into the fireplace from behind and knocked her forward to the floor.

"Ooof! Sorry Buff." He reached out to pull her up.

"There you are finally!" Giles darted into the small room which really only held the fireplace and a nonsensical clock with far too many hands. Buffy hung on to the handle of her duffel bag and stared. He wore what looked like the previous year's Halloween costume, a ridiculous long cloak embroidered with moons and stars. He flushed about the ears at her incredulous expression.

"Makes you nostalgic for the tweed, doesn't it?" she whispered to Willow and Xander, who snickered.

"Well, it could be worse," Xander murmured into her ear. "It could have been the poncho and sombrero combo..." More snickering.

Giles glared at them without too much force and looked at his watch with furrowed brows.

"Hurry up, you Philistines. Our Portkey goes in half an hour," he said, then frowned and paused. "Where's Dawn?"

Buffy sighed and decided just not to think about why someone would want to lock up a harbour. She'd practically spent all day yesterday badgering Dawn into coming with them, and had heard more variations of 'Over my dead and mutilated body on a snow day in the seventh circle of hell' (wherever that was) than she'd ever known existed. Andrew, on the other hand, they'd had to chain in the broom closet to stop him from tagging along.

"Dawn refused to come," she replied.

Looking at it rationally, Buffy couldn't blame her sister - she'd settled into her new school, had even found some kind of boyfriend, and made it very clear that spending a year among 'loons on brooms' was the last thing on her mind. From an emotional point of view, however, Buffy just felt rejected, and not a little worried. Who knew what kind of trouble Dawn could get into with Faith hanging around. Prison, coma, body switches, unrestrained sex - everything was possible. And that boyfriend looked... shady. Strangely enough, they all did. Not to mention that Dawn was really far too young for a relationship...

Giles looked crestfallen for a moment, and put a consoling hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said gently, before adding, "We have to go, though."

Grabbing their bags, they followed Giles into a building that resembled a huge Victorian library, only that it featured omnipresent fireplaces instead of bookshelves. It was quite crowded, and the fashion of the day seemed to run to robes of all forms and colours, with old-fashioned black or pointed hats for the men and pointed hats or equally old-fashioned bonnets for the women. Giles and even Willow did not look too much out of place, but Xander and especially Buffy, in her powder-blue top, pumps and miniskirt, did catch their share of awkward looks.

"Sorry there was no time to take you shopping beforehand," Giles threw over his shoulder as he steered his entourage through the crowd. "There is a Gladrags Branch in New York's Magic Alley just around the corner, but I was lucky to get four Fingers on one of today's Transatlantic Portkeys. But Madam Malkin's in Diagon is an extremely well-sorted robe shop, so you'll be able to get everything you need this afternoon."

Duh, Buffy thought. Someone go buy him a universal translator - he needs that even more than a new wardrobe.

"And there's a Gladrags in Hogsmeade, the hamlet next to Hogwarts," Willow threw in.

Alarm bells started to ring in Buffy's head. "Hamlet?" she wheezed.

Willow flinched. "Well, it's a tad... smallish. But it has a really cute tea shop, and two pubs... one seems to be the local Bronze during the school year, and the other is said to be... interesting, though the drinks might give you everything from sparkly orange warts to exploding stomach acid."

Buffy's own stomach plummeted, and she looked up when Willow squeezed her hand and smiled encouragingly.

"You'll like it, promise. And if not, don't forget - it's not even a full year."

"Hey, if this doesn't work out, you could always go to Disneyland," Xander offered.

The girls eyed him warily, and he visibly shrunk.

"You mean you don't want to ride Splash Mountain?"

Giles gave him a none-too-gentle shove along the corridor, while Buffy and Willow looked at each other and groaned in unison.

They crossed a huge hall, and Giles steered them towards an entrance that announced KEYPORT - NATIONAL AND TRANSNATIONAL. Leering stone gargoyles were scattered all over the archway which led into an even larger hall, where dozens of wizards and witches in azure robes, winged metal helmets and equally winged gold sandals handed out parchments in front of more gargoyled exits. Buffy flipped a bird at one gargoyle that bent forward to peer into her cleavage so far that tiny splinters dislocated from the archway it was chiselled from. It took the hint and backed off - a little.

"All right," Willow said when they had made their way to the end of a line. "I'll leave now." She threw her arms around Buffy. "Be happy!" she whispered into Buffy's ear.

They stayed like this for a moment, and then Willow enveloped Xander in a bone-crushing hug and whispered something to him as well, too quietly for Buffy to hear. She saw a small, rare smile flicker across his lips.

"You have enough Floo Powder to get back?" Giles asked Willow.

"Yes, no problem," she replied and kissed him on the cheek before drawing back. "Good luck, guys. Owl me occasionally."

There was a wet glint in her eyes that she hid by turning away and quickly striding across the hall back to the exit. Buffy watched her leave with a heavy heart. She already missed Dawn, and realised she was going to miss Willow almost as much. Not to mention the fact that the witch was the only one who actually knew the place they were headed for.

The line moved closer to the desk, and finally Giles told the young woman behind the counter, "Summers, Harris and Giles headed for the Diagon Alley Key at 14.15. We made reservations for a second Summers, but won't need it."

The witch gave him a sickly smile, the feathers on her helm fluttering eagerly.

"Oh, goody," she simpered and tapped what looked like a feather tip down a long parchment list until she found and ticked off their names. She ripped off four pieces of parchment from a big roll, scratched a few words on them with the feather, and stamped three of them with an ornate silver seal. The fourth she handed over to the nearest wall gargoyle, who passed it on to its neighbour, who handed it further down until it reached a desk with the heading 'Last Minute Fingers'. Buffy watched in amazement as the gargoyle behind it knocked the desk wizard on his pointed hat sharply and thrust the paper into his face. She turned away quickly when the transport wench - no, witch - chirped into her ear rather shrilly, "Have a good trip, sirs, madam. Thank-you for Keying with Hermes&Thor Portkeys."

Holding onto their parchments, they were just about to file out through the gargoyle-guarded exit behind the desk when an unpleasant voice stopped them.

"If it isn't Rupert Giles - again!"

Automatically, Buffy whirled around to face the poisonously-saccharine tone of voice, one hand curling around the stake in her pocket. On first sight, the slender figure facing them didn't look like much in the way of a supernatural threat. The huge greenish club-wielding monster behind him, however, did. Giles' hand clamped down on her arm just as she went into fighting stance.

"Security troll," he whispered.

A-ha! Buffy gave the thing a suspicious once-over, and found small orange eyes in a boulder-like head leering down at her. It patted its club suggestively, and Buffy shuddered. What was it with the weird ugly creatures and innuendo? And this one in particular made a Turok-Han supervampire look hot, really.

The little man wore a pinstriped gown with creases sharp enough to cut paper, and when he stared up at Giles, his mouth thinned until it looked like an ink-line above his chin.

"Wimple."

Buffy recognised Giles' 'and by the way, you're mud' voice, one she'd rarely experienced herself, but had heard her Watcher using with Spike quite frequently. She decided to hold on to the stake for good measure.

"And I had so hoped you would not grace our fine enterprise again with your presence, Mr. Giles," the striped creep sneered.

"You'll find my authorisation in perfect order," Giles replied coldly. "In fact, considering that it took me more than a day to book a few simple Fingers, I assume that you've already gone through those authorisation papers with a fine tooth comb."

The little wizard inclined his head. "Knowing your past history of abusing wizarding transport for your own private little designs, Mr. Giles," he scoffed, "you surely won't be surprised to receive our particular attention?"

What the heck is going on with those two? Buffy wondered silently.

"I'm sure you'll find that a teaching contract at Hogwarts is about as reputable as it's going to get." Buffy noticed the smug note in Giles' voice, and watched Wimple crunch up his nose in disgust.

"So you believe that Hogwarts will be more lenient towards your blatant disregard for rules? Yes, I can see why Albus Dumbledore's reputation has suffered in the eyes of the international magical community, when he has been reduced to hire the likes of you. He must indeed grow peculiar in his old age." The man's contemptuous gaze swept over Buffy and Xander.

"I'll be sure to convey your concerns, Wimple," Giles shot back, which produced a visible flinch in the obnoxious wizard. "And now if you would excuse us - we have a Key to catch." Giles shoved by the nuisance and the troll, and Buffy caught Wimple ogling at her outfit with no small amount of disgust.

Ew! Had none of these people ever seen Californian summerwear before? Then she took a long hard look at the milling crowds in floor-length robes and thought, Oh. Right. They haven't.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Xander chuckled. "Your blatant disregard for rules, Giles? Who is he? An old acquaintance from the Seventies?"

Giles slowed his pace a little, a harsh line visible on his forehead.

"I used the Portkey system to collect the prospective slayers this spring," he said grimly. "Oh, it was borderline illegal, and the Department for Disinformation made a horrible fuss about having to hand out a round of Memory Charms." He pulled off his glasses and cleaned them with almost-breaking force. "Wimple got on my case like a Niffler after nuggets-"

"Woah, hold the phone a minute," Buffy interrupted. " A sniffler after nuggets? That's about as clear as instructions in Taiwanese."

Giles sighed. "Nifflers are magical mamals that dig for shiny things," he explained.

"D'you think I can bring one home with me and take it to the Bargain Bin?" Buffy quipped.

Giles raised his eyes to the ceiling with a long-suffering sigh. "No! It would violate Clause 73 of the International Code of Wizarding Secrecy. Not to mention that it would take the place apart. As for Wimple," he added bitterly, "it was a matter of life and death, but since the only thing at stake were the lives of Muggle girls, he couldn't care less."

"Is that a common opinion?" Xander asked quietly.

"Too common for my taste," Giles replied and quickened his pace again, obviously unwilling to further get into the topic.

After a few more staircases, they reached a door that sported the same number that was scrawled on their parchments. It led into a tiny room that couldn't possibly accomodate more than half a dozen people; on the bow-legged table in the centre lay what looked like an empty - and slightly crunched up - cigarette pack.

Buffy dumped her duffel to the floor and hrumped.

"Really, Giles," she complained. "I'd have expected broomsticks instead of cancer sticks."

Her Watcher opened his mouth for what looked like a scathing reply when the door banged wide open again and a smallish, round wizard in high-heeled, embroidered cowboy boots with spurs and a considerable pointed hat with gold tassles stormed in, an enormous leather sack slung over his shoulder.

"Ah, so glad there was a last minute spare Finger around," the wizard boomed in a voice vaguely resembling a roaring buffalo. "Bound for Diagon Alley, are you?"

"Er... yes," Giles replied when Buffy just shrugged and pointed at him with a cheerful "Here's the brains of the expedition."

"Great! Loman Humperdinck, saleswizard travelling in Quadpot equipment," the wizard introduced himself, grabbed Buffy's hand and placed a stubbly kiss on her knuckles, leering down at her legs all the while. "Pleasure to meet such a stunning example of witchkind." Buffy seriously considered reconnecting her knuckles with his mouth, slayer-style, when he finally stepped back, grinning so broadly she expected his face to split every moment. "Gents," he greeted, nodding at the men.

Humperdinck dropped his sack to the floor with an audible clank and pulled open the drawstrings to reveal hundreds of miniature cups and balls, painted with all kinds of adventurous designs.

"The finest Quods and Pots that Galleons can buy," he announced proudly. "And great miniaturising spellwork, ain't it?" He turned to round on Xander. "You've played the noble sport at school, I bet, a strapping young man like you!"

Xander blinked at him. "What, crackpot?" he asked innocently, and received a very dirty look. "'Fraid not."

Buffy smothered a giggle behind her hand.

Just then the disembodied head of a witch with an artificial smile under a winged helmet appeared in a corner.

"Honoured witches, gentlewizards, please hang on to your luggage and take hold of your Portkey. It will activate in two minutes sharp. Hermes&Thor wishes you an enjoyable trip."

"Look, loudspeakers with pictures," Xander whispered to Buffy and checked the straps of his backpack.

Buffy grabbed her duffel and looked at the keyhole in the door expectantly. It was - and remained - empty. To her surprise, Giles picked up the cigarette pack from the table and held it out. The saleswizard grabbed his sack, heaved it on his back again with a grunt, and also put a finger on the pack. They looked, Buffy thought, like a demented promotion shot out of E.T.

"Just put a finger on the Portkey," Giles admonished.

"I thought you were going to say pull my finger," Xander quipped.

Giles just shot him a withering glare. Buffy and Xander exchanged a helpless look and put their hands on the cigarette pack as well.

Just when Buffy was ready to pull back and complain about the sheer silliness of the whole thing, a wrenching lurch went through her stomach, as if an invisible hook were rearranging her entrails. She shut her eyes quickly.

"Giles, I think I'm..." Another, equally forceful lurch made her eyes fly open again. "...going to be sick," she finished faintly.

The little room had vanished, and been replaced by a vast, bustling hall, cordoned off with multi-coloured ropes along the walls. She noticed that they were surrounded by a pale orange one, whose ends now rolled themselves up to allow moving out. Watching the rope sway like a snake at a fair did nothing for the disturbed tranquility of Buffy's stomach contents. Xander, she noticed, looked green around the gills as well, while the only effect on Giles seemed that his glasses were a bit askew.

"You guys never do things the easy way around here, do you?" Xander asked when his stomach contents finally settled.

"You call a Connector flight easy?" Giles yelped.

Humperdinck stared from one to the other without comprehension before turning to Buffy and pulling a card from his pocket with a flourish.

"Distinct pleasure travelling with you, m'am," he barked. "If you are interested in some quality Quodpot equipment, or just want to go for a buttermalt, here's my fireplace location."

He stomped off with one last glare at Xander, and Buffy stared down at the card between her fingers. The wizard's tiny photograph grinned up at her chest and smacked its lips in a very disconcerting fashion. Buffy screeched and dropped it. The fall did stop the smacking, but not the leer. She prodded the paper suspiciously with the toe of her pumps and glared accusingly at Giles.

"Wizarding photographs capture not only the image, but also part of the personality," he explained and picked up the card.

"Yeah, I can see that!" Buffy exclaimed. She grabbed the card from his hand, scowled down at it and finally shoved it into the pocket of her bag.

"OK, what-"

"Ah, Professors Summers and Giles, and Mr Harris, I presume?" a voice piped up from somewhere behind Xander's back. They turned to see a tiny wizard with a jauntily perched hat beaming up at them. "I'm Filius Flitwick - Professor Dumbledore sent me to settle you in with the Ministry of Magic as quickly as possible." He shook first Buffy's hand, then Giles'. "It's always a pleasure to meet new colleagues."

Finally, he smiled cheerfully at Xander. "And I'm sure it'll do the students a wealth of good to have a staff member closer to them in age, Mr Harris. So," he added with a sweeping gesture, "let's take you up to the Ministry. Albus has everything arranged already - is that your whole party?"

Just as she nodded, Buffy again felt a sting at the thought of being separated from Dawn for almost a year. She hated leaving people behind. Sometimes it meant never seeing them again. Alive that was. And then you never got to tell them how much you... She shoved the thought away with some effort. No use in going there, she berated herself inwardly. New world, remember?

"Then if you'll follow me..." Flitwick bounced off towards the end of the hall, where a number of ornate elevators beckoned.

"So you're teaching at that school as well - Hoggards?" Buffy inquired as she hurried to catch up with the little wizard. He smiled over his shoulder.

"Hogwarts," he corrected. "I'm teaching Charms. In fact, I had wondered if between us and some other committed professors we could revive the Duelling Club - it's an ancient Hogwarts tradition, though fallen into disregard after a couple of..." he hesitated, obviously weighing diplomacy against honesty, "... not quite so effective Defence instructors. But in troubled times like these, the students would certainly benefit from it."

"Um... sure," Buffy stuttered and poked Giles none-too-gently in the ribs with her elbow. He replied with a small shake of head and an expressive shrug.

"Oh my - I really shouldn't press that on you before you've even had a chance to settle in," the small wizard apologised and stopped in front of the elevators. "Here we are - none of you has a wand to register, I believe, so we can go right up."

Together with a small crowd of witches and wizards they piled into one of the huge elevators. British wizard fashion, Buffy noted, seemed to run to black or pinstriped robes and pointed hats. She failed to see even one bonnet on a witch.

A violet paper airplane landed on Xander's head with a 'woosh', and took off again after disentangling itself from his hair. He followed its course open-mouthed, but none of the wizards paid it any heed. A female voice announced the different levels, but was nearly drowned out in the din of chattering voices.

"...yet another lawsuit against the ban on flying carpets..."

"...four Welsh Green eggs crammed into her bloody baby buggy, I'm not having you on..."

"...fire-breathing street lamp right outside the Savoy, I thought poor Arthur would die of heart failure..."

"...always done up with glamour charms bordering on Dark Arts level, the floozy..."

Why the hell did I let Giles talk me into this? Buffy wailed mentally, not for the first time that day.

When the lift announced something that sounded like "Apartment for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures", Flitwick tugged on Buffy's sleeve. "That's us!"

They forced their way outside, and Giles stared around him in confusion. "Magical Creatures?"

Flitwick looked down at the floor with a shifty expression. "Well, there was a spot of bother with the Hogwarts governors about Professor Summers' appointment," he confessed after a moment's hesitation. "You come from an old wizarding family, Mr Giles, and your... condition won't have an impact on the eligibility of your teaching. As member of the assistant staff, Mr Harris' employment was of course at the headmaster's discretion." His cheeks flushed slightly as he looked at Buffy.

"But there was no way the school governors would have sanctioned the appointment of a Muggle to the Defence against the Dark Arts position," he continued. "So we had to establish, well, that Miss Summers is not a Muggle." He smiled at Buffy with a faintly smug expression. "In fact, as the 'Vampire Slayer' with certified powers, you certainly qualify as a magical creature, and as such you are qualified to teach at Hogwarts. There have been numerous precedents, and the governors won't be able to veto your appointment once you've been properly registered."

He gestured at a large door where a sign read: DEPARTMENT FOR THE REGULATION AND CONTROL OF MAGICAL CREATURES - BEING DIVISION.

Buffy frowned at him severely. "I really don't take to well to being regulated and controlled. Or being a being."

"Oh, it's no more than a formality, I assure you, Professor."

It certainly would take some time to get used to her sudden promotion from lowly Mina Harker to Professor Van Helsing of vampire slaying, Buffy decided.

She rubbed her aching forehead. "Please, call me Buffy," she replied. "Or make that 'she who'll be after you with a big pointy stake' if it isn't a formality," she added under her breath, but loud enough for the small wizard to hear.

Giles gave her a scandalised look, but Flitwick's mouth quirked in amusement. Buffy glared at them both with narrowed eyes before hesitantly stepping through the door.

Behind it was a large office, where a woman was seated at a desk on the back wall. A veritable flotilla of paper planes swirled around at the ceiling, and from time to time the witch waved her wand and one of them shot down to stick to the wooden tip like a butterfly pinned on a needle. In the middle of the room stood a wizard in a battered leather overcoat with innumerable pockets. His face was grizzled, and a thin scar ran from his temple down to his mouth, where it disappeared in a short grey beard.

Flitwick closed the door behind them and beamed at the man.

"Mr Scamander," he squeaked, "it's a pleasure to see you again." They shook hands enthusiastically, with the smaller wizard almost dancing on his toes. "I've read the reviews for your recent essay with Hogwarts' own Aloysius Kettleburn - the Monster Society Annual was positively ecstatic about From Chizpurfle to Chimaera: New Approaches to Magizoology." He turned to Buffy, who pulled a face.

What does a cheese puff have to do with zoology?

"Let me introduce Newton Scamander, world-renowned expert on magical creatures. His Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them has been the standard text for Care of Magical Creatures in all English-speaking schools of wizardry since 1928."

Scamander gave Buffy a broad smile.

"I'd been honoured when my old friend Albus offered me the chance to add a new species of magical being to my list of discoveries," he boomed, "but I certainly did not expect one that could put a Veela to shame."

Buffy returned the smile shakily. "Thanks - I think." He shook her hand vigorously while Flitwick finished the introductions. She would have to ask Giles later whether 'Veela' qualified as a compliment or insult.

"Newt - meet Mr Giles and Mr Harris, who will also work at Hogwarts this year."

"Giles?" Scamander asked. "The Watcher chap? I got your report about the Slayer species from Albus. Excellent piece of research - concise, precise and vivid, not like the long-winded, bone-dry stuff the Ministry churns out."

To her delight, Buffy watched her Watcher blush and stammer his thanks, and shared a conspirative grin with Xander. The "Hrump!" that sounded from behind the office desk was perceptible only with Slayer hearing. Buffy glanced at the witch behind the desk curiously.

"But let's get you registered, Professor Summers," Scamander said, following her gaze, and led her over to the desk. Behind them, Flitwick conjured three plush stools for himself, Giles and Xander.

The witch behind the registration desk was pale, with bulging eyes and a lacy pink bow in her hair that clashed horribly with her features. Her mouth was wide, with a distinct downward curve. In combination with the protruding eyes, she very much resembled a toad. A very, very morose toad. She alternately shot disgusted looks at Buffy and even more venomous ones at Flitwick.

Scamander pulled out a chair for Buffy to sit and folded his long limbs onto the seat next to her. A large piece of parchment, an ink pot and an elegant peacock feather sat on the desktop. "Ready?"

Buffy nodded hesitantly.

"Registration of the Slayer subspecies," Scamander dictated.

Great, I don't even qualify as a full species, Buffy thought with knitted brows, and then flinched when the feather rose from the table top with an eager wriggle of its plume, dipped into the ink well, and began to scratch Scamander's words onto the parchment in florid letters. Noting her reaction, the old wizard patted her hand indulgently, while the woman shot her another contemptuous look.

"As witnesses have assembled: Newton Scamander, creatures expert..."

"Dolores Jane Umbridge, assigned Registrar to the Beings Division of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures..." the toady woman said in a surprisingly girlish voice, lips pursed in an even more severe downcurl than before. Both turned to look at Buffy expectantly.

"Uh... Buffy Summers?" she stuttered.

"... certified Slayer," Scamander finished proudly.

"You are required to answer - truthfully - the questions posed to you by the Acting Registrar, slayer. Actions to the contrary will make you liable to legal prosecution under the Code for the Comprehensive Identification of Non-Wizard Part-Humans," toad woman haughtily informed the space above Buffy's shoulder. "Do you comprehend those regulations, or will you need Mr Scamander to interpret for you?"

"I'm suddenly glad I took psychology instead of law classes at college," Buffy replied dryly. "But yeah, I got the gist."

"Be sure you do," Umbridge emphasised ominously and poked at the quill. "Let's start with your subspecies' general attributes... Your preferred habitat?"

"The mall?" Buffy's lips quirked at Xander's chuckle and Giles' suppressed groan.

Toad woman's glare was dripping with venom when Scamander coughed and pointed out, "None specified."

"Diet?"

"Most of the time," Buffy confessed. "But anything but Burgers if not."

The quill shivered anxiously before writing out her reply.

"Natural enemies?"

"Vampires," Buffy replied reflexively, before adding, "and just about everything that tries to destroy life as we know it."

"Breeding?"

"I beg your pardon?" Buffy snarled. Too much was too much. "My parents taught me manners, just so you know."

Toad woman gave her a nasty smirk. "I meant, do you bear life young or reproduce magically?" Her hand closed tightly around her wand as she spoke.

Buffy rose from her chair and leaned across the table until she was only inches away from the protruding eyes. "How about you apologise for your 'lack of breeding' before I take that stick and feed it to you?" she inquired sweetly.

"Ladies!" Scamander interjected. "I believe it's the Beasts instead of Beings Questionnaire you've got in front of you, Madam Umbridge. I'm sure -" he paused to emphasise the last word with a warning growl, "-you did not mean to give offence."

"Certainly not," Umbridge simpered with supreme insincerity, and Buffy longingly pictured punching her until that ugly bow fell off.

"New slayers are predestined magically, and become 'active' at the death of the current one, if I read Mr Giles' report correctly," Scamander dictated in a final voice and caught the quill's feathery end before it could launch into the if-clause. "I believe that would be all," he added forcefully enough to shut the witch up.

He turned the quill and signed the paper quickly, followed by toad woman, who gave them both a cold look. After Buffy had clumsily signed with the squirming quill, Umbridge rolled up the parchment and made for the door. There, she stopped to glower at Flitwick.

"Hogwarts is really going to the Crups with Firebolt-speed," she snarled.

"How nice, then, that you won't have to watch it. I'm glad to see that the Ministry found you an appropriate interim position before your transfer to the Centaur Liaison Office," the tiny wizard replied sweetly. Umbridge went bone-white from one second to the next and stormed out without another word.

Faced with four quizzical expressions, Flitwick shrugged. "She was Pr... Buffy's... predecessor at Hogwarts, and anything but a success story."

"A thoroughly unpleasant person," Scamander tutted and turned to Buffy again. "I hope this encounter has not disenchanted you with the wizarding world. Perhaps we can speak more about your past adventures as the slayer at another time, Professor? Porpentina and I would love to entertain you over at our place in Devon if your schedule allows it."

He fetched a large gold pocket watch from his coat which started to squeak in an agitated voice as soon as they looked at it. "Oops, late again - I'm to meet a prospective client who's prepared to put up a considerable sum of galleons for an expedition to capture a Crumple-Horned Snorkack." He shook Buffy's hand once more. "I will owl you about our little chat, if I may?"

Buffy nodded and watched him stride out of the room.

"Galleons - that reminds me..." Flitwick interrupted cheerfully, rummaged in his pocket and took out three heavy round purses of black satin embroidered with an elaborate silver crest of stylised animals. "Albus insisted on you having an advance on your fist salary. He's also opened accounts for Mr Harris and Prof... Buffy... with Gringotts Wizarding Bank." He looked at Giles hesitantly.

"We assumed that your family account is still active, even though the legal issue over your inheritance is still... pending?"

Giles frowned darkly. "Yes. My cousin Jonathan Parkinson has called me unfit of being heir to the Giles family on grounds that I have turned my back on the magical community, but it's really only a veiled reference to the Bill for the exclusion of squibs from the inheritance of a wizarding family that the Wizengamot has been debating for years."

"It would be a black day for wizardkind if that would ever become law!" Flitwick's outrage was palpable. "We've turned a blind eye to such discriminatory policies for far too long."

"So far I had rather thought 'good riddance' to all of it," Giles confessed. "But while I have not been on the best of terms with my father, I would hate to see Aunt Beatrice and the Parkinsons walk off with the Giles family fortune."

"Oh, I'm sure Albus would be delighted to lend a hand in the matter," Flitwick assured. "Still, the advance should allow you to cover the essentials and pick out some robes for our Muggle-world friends." He beamed at Xander and Buffy again. "I have made reservations for you in the Leaky Cauldron for the night - it was too short notice to get a Portkey for Hogwarts for you, and of course having staff members on the Hogwarts Express will provide an additional degree of security. Not that we expect any dodgy business, but with You-Know-Who on the rise..."

He drew his wand from his belt and raised it dramatically. "I'll see you tomorrow evening at Hogwarts, then." The wand swung down, and he disappeared into thin air with a soft 'pop'.

Buffy stared at the spot open-mouthed, and decided that she would never, ever, get used to this vanishing business. Then she looked down at the heavy pouch in her hand and peeked inside, only to be rewarded with the enticing glint of gold. She linked arms with Giles and Xander and smiled.

"I think we deserve some entertainment after this," she announced, ignoring the horror dawning on their faces. "Let's go robe shopping!"

This wizard subculture, she mused as she dragged her reluctant victims out towards the elevators, was rougher than expected, and she would have to take Giles aside and really pull some worms out of his nose soonish. But still... it would be nice not to have to save the world for once!

 **Next:**  
Hogwarts Express - Xander - Slytherins


	3. Train Times

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dedicated to Thea, for finally finishing OotP! Abject thanks to my beta Spookykat, the goddess of characterisation! More thanks to the great FA-posters who not only described King's Cross for me, but even provided pictures and a history of the place. The chapter title is stolen from a British railway magazine, and one pretty obvious quote has been filched from Tolkien's _The Lord of the Rings_. And Veritas let me borrow Dragonfire Whiskey from her Harry/Lucius epic _Losing Sleep in a Waking Dream_.

There had been, Xander thought through the dull roar in his head, better mornings. Mornings when his alarm clock had not woken him with shouts of 'Get out of bed, you bloody log!', and when the mirror over the sink had not announced, after he had thrown a couple of handfuls of water into his face, that it had seen livelier ghosts. And yes, of course there was the headache.

He dug for a bottle of Thylenol and popped a handful into his mouth, jumping and almost choking on them when the mirror shrieked 'Those Muggle poisons will kill you!' As if the magical ones weren't close to succeeding already!

Sluggishly, his thoughts crawled back to the previous evening.

Shopping with Buffy had turned out exactly as bad as - no, worse than - expected. Giles had escaped the procedure by announcing that his 'family elves' had packed his old clothes already (and Xander, picturing tweed robes, had had to embrace a clothes rack to keep on his feet, which in turn had cursed him most vilely). For himself, Xander had quickly picked out three plain black robes that looked as unlike girls' dresses as it was possible for a piece of clothing with an ankle-length skirt. Finally, he had treated himself to a floor-length Darth Vader-style cloak just because the temptation had been impossible to resist.

After he'd paid for his purchases, Buffy had just been about to launch into a heated debate about hem length with the owner, a stocky witch in beige robes. From the fanatical glint in his friend's eye, Xander realised that she could go on for hours. Sometimes, Xander mused miserably, he really missed Spike. At least with Spike, you could talk back.

He'd been practically ready to fall around Giles' neck in gratitude when the Watcher had suggested a 'pick-me-up'. Deciding that even being picked up by Giles was preferable to watching Buffy fashion-tripping (especially since no undressing seemed to be forthcoming in the near future), Xander agreed, and several truckloads of boulders fell off his chest when 'pick me up' turned out to mean 'going for a drink' in Wizardese.

The pub was dingy, crowded, and provided Xander with one of the few epiphanies of his life. Butterbeer was undoubtedly a gift from the gods - or goddesses, as Willow would insist - and its high-proof variant, Buttermalt Dragonfire Whiskey, was even more divine. And, as Tom the bar wizard had insisted, it "packed a punch to knock out a goblin". It had certainly knocked him out.

And 'out' was good - you couldn't brood over the dead when you were out.

How he'd got up to his room was a mystery, and was hopefully to blame on Giles rather than on Buffy... Hence the headache as if little Professor Flitwick was doing stepdance routines in his head, and a taste in his mouth as if one of said goblins had performed unspeakable acts inside.

Dragging himself out of the bathroom, Xander threw on a pair of black jeans and a dark shirt before giving his new robes a baleful, one-eyed glare and deciding to go without. Postpone humiliation to a later point in time.

An energetic knock on the door made him flinch. He slouched over to open and peered at Buffy - pardon, Professor Summers - from under heavy-lidded eyes. She frowned up at him.

"Sober again?"

"Um," he stuttered, and Inner Xander raised his mental head.

Evasive maneuvres, idiot!

Xander had never regretted keeping the voice of his devil-may-care alter ego after his doppelgaenger episode - the guy was amusing to have around, and quick on his toes.

"Nice dress, Buff."

"It's a robe, Xander." She pirouetted before him, grey skirts with pink lining flying around her legs. Ankle-length, Inner Xander noted with a smirk - the robe shop madam must be made of very stern stuff indeed. "Like it?" Buffy asked.

"What about my life expectancy if I say no?" Xander quipped.

"Numbered in seconds - very few seconds," she threatened cheerfully.

"Stunning!" he grinned.

She punched him playfully, her slayer-strength almost knocking him backwards onto the bed. "Better get your stuff together. Giles is getting nervous about reaching that Mogwards Express in time."

Xander gave her an affronted look. "You mean he looks better than me?"

"Well, according to that tiny toothless guy who's running the place, he went easier on the brew that 'can knock a goblin flat'," she smirked.

"Ugh! Don't remind me."

"Poor thing," she cooed mockingly. "Want help dragging your trunk?"

"My what?"

Giles' appearance on the landing distracted Buffy's attention. The Watcher still wore his ridiculous cloak, but now sported a high-collared black robe underneath, which convinced Xander that refusing to don a dress had been a good idea after all.

Well, if we're late at least I won't have to face breakfast, Xander mused with a shudder and dry heave at the thought. He went back into his room to get his things. Where his battered backpack had been, thrown on a dilapidated chair next to the bed, an unwieldy, wooden trunk now sat. It winked up at him with round, cheerful eyes which had somehow superimposed themselves on the padlocks.

"What the...? Giles!" he yelled. "Care to tell me why my backpack looks like a piece of wood, and gives me flirty looks?"

"I bribed one of the pub elves to transfigure it," Giles explained, walking over to him. "We won't stand out so much this way." He patted the trunk affectionately, which gave him an adoring look. "House-elf magic can be a bit unpredictable at times, though," he conceded. Xander sighed.

"I just hope that my boxers haven't transformed into codpieces along with it," he hissed under his breath.

Giles stared. "Where did you find out what a codpiece is?" he marvelled.

Xander flushed. "It played the starring role in one of those Indian horror flicks we used to watch while you researched the demon of the day," he replied, and then admitted. "I asked Willow."

Mutually deciding to drop the topic, they grabbed one handle each and dragged the trunk out into the corridor, then bumped down the narrow staircase after Buffy. She carried her own trunk easily on one shoulder, looking for all the world like a lumberjack in a ball gown. He had to hand it to her, though, Xander thought as he admired her backside sashaying down the stairs, she did not look at all bad in robes. But then she was a girl!

***

They made their way through the early morning bustle of Diagon Alley, and Xander realised that he'd love to explore some of those shops without a slave driver cracking the verbal whip over his head. He glared at Giles and longingly stared at a shop window with a variety of magical instruments. In the shop next door, a pharmacy, a white-robed wizard was busy refilling a large crystal bowl with 'Jobberknoll Feathers', and another with 'Imp Livers' - or so the overhead placard announced. Anya would have loved the place - she'd have fit right in. Perhaps she'd even known the wizard world. There had been so many things they'd never got around to talk about, being too busy with sex, or later with avoiding each other... With some effort, he fought back the thought and concentrated on the sights.

Some twisting backroads later, Xander had learned to distinguish between wizarding and normal streets. In wizarding streets, the lamp posts jumped out of your way with a polite nod; in ordinary streets, you ended up seeing stars and with a nasty bump on your forehead after a dead-on collision.

At last, Giles stopped and pointed out a sprawling building dominated by two huge glass archways and a squat belltower on top that rose above the rows of inner-city blocks before them. "King's Cross Station," he announced.

"Bless you!" Xander muttered, swaying under the weight of his trunk and labouring from his aching head. They made it to one of the arched entrances, after being almost ploughed over by a red two-storey bus speeding along on the wrong side of the road. Giles rummaged through his magician's coat pocket (which did earn them funny looks, though less than it would have in Sunnydale, when there still was a Sunnydale) and produced three large parchment tickets, two of which he handed to Xander and Buffy.

"Platform 9 3/4?" Buffy frowned. "You English are weird!"

Despite excessive craning of his neck, Xander could not detect any sign for a Platform 9 3/4, nor, for that matter, any Platform 8 1/2 or 10 2/3.

"Let's face it," he sighed. "They've been having you on, Giles."

"No," the Watcher insisted. "Filius Flitwick gave me detailed instructions - there is a secret entrance to the platform through the brick wall between platforms 9 and 10."

"Perhaps he's just into Pink Floyd's greatest hits, considering where we're headed," Xander quipped, and received one of Giles's trademark 'I wish you were a vamp so my Slayer could stake you'-glares. Still, the sheer solidity of said brick wall seemed to daunt even the Watcher. Xander set down his trunk with a sigh of relief. As soon as they'd left the wizarding part of town, it had thankfully stopped giving him lovesick looks.

"So, what now?" he wondered aloud. "Open, Sesame? Speak, friend, and enter? Abracadabra?"

Next to him, a young girl with her arms slung around a basket with a small white cat shrieked and dashed off into the crowd.

"Don't say that!" Giles exclaimed.

"What?!"

"Nevermind," the Watcher sighed. "I'll tell you later. And no, there isn't a password - we're supposed to just walk through."

"No thanks!" Xander cried, rubbing his head. "I've already played that game today, and almost concussed myself."

"Just through, right?" Buffy repeated mistrustfully, and then went into karate stance. She shot the wall a death glare that would surely have crumpled anything less sturdy than brick, and then struck. And yelped. And vanished right through the bricks, propelled forward by her own momentum.

Seems to work all right, Inner Xander chirped cheerfully. Xander picked up Buffy's trunk, shoved it through the wall after his friend, and followed with one hand up to protect his head, just in case.

The wall disappeared around him, and he stepped out onto another platform, bustling with robed children, trunks on trolleys, and animals of all varieties. In the tracks stood a train with an old-fashioned, bright scarlet steam engine that was puffing happily. Buffy was glaring up at him from the ground, rubbing her shins and staring accusingly at the trunk that had landed on her.

Damn! Why do these things always happen to me?

Xander pulled her up and out of the way when the first of Giles' long legs appeared out of the bricks, precariously close.

"Platform 9 3/4," the Watcher announced proudly once he'd finished disentangling himself from the wall, and pointed at a large overhead sign. Then he jumped aside just in time to prevent being bowled over by a group of new arrivals coming through the wall portal. They were, basically, gangly, mostly red-haired, and robed. Two of them were women, mother and daughter judging from the similar, determined upturn of their noses.

"Uh, sorry," the oldest redhead apologised for almost crashing into the Watcher. When his eyes fell on Xander's clothes, they widened, and then a delighted smile spread over his face.

"So pleased to meet you," he beamed, grabbed Xander's hand and shook it vigorously.

"Uh, yes, me too..." Xander got out, utterly flabbergasted. The older woman noticed his confusion and stepped up.

"We've got to hurry, Arthur," she admonished, and the man - Arthur - regretfully looked at the four packed trolleys his family was busy unloading.

"A Muggle - bless his little heart!" he exclaimed fondly.

The wife shook her head in bemused exasperation.

"Do we want another Ford Anglia incident, dear?"

'Dear' looked at her shiftily. "Well, seeing as how the Ford Anglia seems to have vanished, that's not really a problem, now-"

"Arthur!"

Xander grinned at the sight of the woman giving her husband a stern talking to as he was marched off.

Now that was weird, he mused, while Giles scrutinised his shirt and jeans.

"Perhaps you should have changed, Xander..."

"Do they do that blessing thing a lot?" Xander inquired. Willow and Tara had been quite into it, but at least had refrained from specific body parts. Or make that his body parts - they'd never let him in on what they were doing in the bedroom with each other.

"Well, at least they didn't bless your little socks," Buffy quipped.

"There's nothing bless-worthy about my socks," Xander insisted, and was about to elaborate when Giles grabbed both his and Buffy's arms and dragged them bodily over to the train. A lanky wizard chewing on an impressive-looking whistle stood next to a carriage door and directed students inside.

"Excuse me, sir." The conductor wizard turned, frowning, and relaxed when he saw he was being addressed by an adult. "I'm Professor Giles," Giles announced proudly, and Xander exchanged a smirk with Buffy behind his back. Unlike the slayer, who flinched imperceptibly whenever her new 'title' came up in conversation, the Watcher thrived on it.

"Wotcher, Prof!" the man exclaimed, expression turning from annoyed to deferential at warp speed.

Wow, Giles really is well-known around here, Xander thought.

"Urs Shunpike, at yer service. We've reserved the front compartment fer ye," the conductor explained. "Behind ye's the Prefects' carriage, and then the rest of the crowd." His eyes fell on Buffy, and went almost impossibly round. He bowed, deeply - or perhaps he's only trying to hide his drooling, Inner Xander snarled ungenerously. "D'ye want me to float that trunk for ye, madam, eh, prof?"

Buffy gave him a dazzling smile that made the whistle slip right out of his mouth, and shook her head.

"No, thanks. It's a pretty light, er... trunk."

His ears drooped visibly, but he bowed again as they made their way up the platform to the first carriage behind the gleaming locomotive. It whistled as they approached, almost as in greeting. Climbing on with three unwieldy trunks wasn't all that easy, and they got their share of half-hidden and not so secret stares from the milling crowd of pupils as they squeezed through towards the front compartments of the carriage. The noise level would put the Bronze on a live music night to shame, Xander mused before remembering that the Bronze was now at the bottom of an abyss, and that he'd never again be able to take Anya there for a cappuccino for old times' sake. He let the noise wash over him to drown out the memories.

"... got a Puffskein for my birthday..."

"... wonder who'll teach Defence this year, a vampire perhaps..."

"... Rose Zeller heard the Killing Curse being cast right there on the platform..."

Xander looked down when he felt something squishy under his sneaker, and jumped aside just in time to avoid stepping on a large brown toad. It looked up at him balefully, but was admittedly a more pleasant sight than that Umbridge woman from the Beast Regulation Office. A stocky brown-haired boy squeezed through the crowd, bent down and embraced the amphibian blissfully.

"Trevor!"

In front of him, Buffy shuddered and Xander could see the fine hairs on her neck rise.

"Ugh! That's so disgusting!" she muttered. "And unhygienic!"

"Well," Xander proposed, "perhaps it's a friend of his that someone has turned into a frog? Want to try and kiss it, Cinderella?"

She swatted him, and Giles looked over his shoulder, shaking his head.

"Unlikely. Human-to-animal transformation is highest-level Transfiguration, and quite beyond the capability of students." He paused for a second. "At least for most."

"Ugh!" Buffy repeated. "I had actually hoped you were kidding," she added in a faint voice and accelerated her pace. "Xander, maybe you can find another insect girlfriend here," she quipped.

Xander responded with a wan smile. She didn't mean to hurt you, he told himself.

But considering the way she pined over fangs, you'd expect her to tread a bit more carefully on the girlfriend topic, Inner Xander growled.

The front compartment was empty, but a round-faced, red-cheeked witch was loading a trolley with food in the corridor outside. She waved her wand, and with each wave an assortment of sweets, cakes and wrapped sandwiches appeared on the trolley. A final energetic flick conjured a large, frosted jug of orange liquid, whose weight made the trolley wobble precariously on its wheels. The witch looked up and saw three pairs of eyes trained on her in astonishment.

"Oh, you dears must be the new professors!" She curtsied and flashed them a dimpled smile. "Hetty Shunpike, Refreshment Witch on the Hogwarts Express," she introduced herself and then grabbed the handles of the trolley to give them room to slip into the compartment. "All yours now - I'll be on my way, but if ye'll be after a Cauldron Cake or a sip of pumpkin juice, just come down the train."

"Oh God, I'll never get used to that magical appearing and disappearing business," Buffy groaned when they were alone, and flopped down on a seat

As soon as they were sitting, Giles opened his trunk (Xander had kicked his under the seat quickly and ignored its hurt look) and took out two small parcels. He muttered something, and one parcel grew into a large pile of newspapers bound at one side to a wooden staff to simplify turning, the other into an assortment of books.

Wincing slightly under the their weight, Giles picked up the stack of old-fashioned tomes and placed it firmly onto Buffy's lap.

"I took the liberty to mail-order the relevant Defence Against the Dark Arts text- and sourcebooks that have been on Hogwarts' syllabus over the last ten years," he explained with the near-fanatic glint of the bibliophile in his eye. Buffy stared at the books.

"Of course I've warned Headmaster Dumbledore that due to the short notice of our appointment you wouldn't be able to arrive with your class schedules prepared," he continued. "He was most understanding, and assured me that your colleague would be prepared to take over most of the theoretical aspects. But since this is going to be quite a long journey," he added smugly, "you probably want to familiarise yourself with some of the basic concepts."

If Buffy's robe made her resemble a Victorian heroine out of those Austen movies Willow and Tara had been so addicted to, Inner Xander sniggered, she now looked like a Victorian heroine about to faint.

"Wow, thanks, Giles," she ground out at last.

Giles reached over and pulled out what was easily the largest volume of the stack and handed it to Xander together with a small brochure. The brochure proudly identified itself as the 1861 edition of ARCHITECTONIC HIGHLIGHTS OF WIZARDING BRITAIN: HOGWARTS CASTLE, while the tome - big enough to beat a killer whale to death with, Xander groused - sported a stylised version of the multi-turreted and towered castle that was on the brochure's cover, under the title HOGWARTS, A HISTORY. Suddenly, fainting did not seem like such a bad option.

"I've had the Flourish & Blotts' saleswitch put a wandless shrinking charm on the books so us non-magical folk can also miniaturise them," Giles explained. "Just touch them and say Minuo to shrink them -" he demonstrated, and the pile turned back to handy pocket-size - "and Engorgio to return them to full size." Another tap, and Buffy's lap was full of oversized volumes again.

I wonder if that spell works for other things as well, Inner Xander grinned, and judging from the sudden twitch of Buffy's lips, her thoughts were taking a similar path. Their eyes met, and then they both collapsed into a fit of giggles, finally ending up almost crying with mirth on each other's shoulder.

Giles observed them with faint amusement, although there was an almost pained, wistful expression on his face.

"Giles?" Buffy inquired hesitantly once she'd regained some breath. "You okay?"

"Oh, it's nothing," he replied, taking off and cleaning his glasses. "I just remembered an old... friend, who reacted just the same when I first told him about that spell."

If Buffy was curious, she did not show it, and Giles' face discouraged Xander from pursuing the matter as well, even if he'd loved to know what kind of memory had put that look on the Watcher's face.

As if to break the strange atmosphere, Buffy picked up the top tome and opened it gingerly. DEFENSIVE MAGICAL THEORY, Xander read in florid, embossed letters. Giles grabbed his engorged newspaper stack, whose title page announced THE DAILY PROPHET, 1981-1996: COLLECTED EDITION, and began to read. Buffy shuffled through her books restlessly, until her interest was piqued by a glossy volume titled VOYAGES WITH VAMPIRES. Its cover showed a handsome blond wizard holding up a stake with a smile obtrusive enough to make toothpaste whitening advertisers go pale with envy.

Xander flicked through his brochure, inwardly deciding to reserve the HISTORY for straightening out wobbly furniture. At least the booklet had pictures, and intriguing pages like 'Hogwarts Mysteries - the Chamber of Secrets and Its Fell Monster'.

Meanwhile, the train had begun to move with a cheerful, ear-splitting whistle, and was leaving behind first inner-city London, then rows after rows of brick suburban houses. Despite its extravagant appearance, no one seemed to give the scarlet steam engine so much as a side glance. With the last outskirts of the city, Xander's hangover seemed to vanish as well, and soon his empty stomach started to grumble somewhat insistently. At last, he got up and announced,

"I'm going to look for the trolley witch to get a bite. Want me to get you something?"

"Why don't you get a selection of wizarding sweets," Giles replied and rummaged through his pocket for a gold piece. "I haven't seen a Chocolate Frog in ages, and you and Buffy will find them interesting, I bet."

Smirking at the greedy glitter in Giles' eyes, Xander pocketed the coin.

Buffy banged her book shut (which knocked the jauntily perched hat right off the cover wizard's head) and made to jump up.

"I'll come with you!"

Xander smirked again. "Nah - don't let me distract you from your studies, Professor. Donut delivery guy, that's me."

Grinning at Buffy's disappointed expression, he slipped out of the compartment. The corridors were still teeming with students, most of them clutching bags of candy. In their robes, they looked like monochrome trick-or-treaters on a Halloween outing. Xander stopped behind a gaggle of very tiny pupils congesting the way. They were too absorbed in their chatter to notice him.

"... think Gryffindor is best," a fine-boned, brunette boy announced. "They're brave, they have Potter, and they've won the House Cup five years in a row."

"Oh please, Fawcett!" a sturdy dark-haired boy sneered. "Everybody knows that's just because the Headmaster favours them. We'll try for Slytherin, right, Ellie?" he asked the tiny, pig-tailed girl next to him.

"No!" She whirled around and stared at him angrily. "I don't want to be treated like dirt by everybody, or live in a dungeon, or always explain I'm not evil! Mum says I'm smart - I'll be Ravenclaw!"

"But Ellie..." the boy stuttered. "Our families have always been Slytherin! And what would your father...?"

"Don't mention him!" the girl yelled, face screwed up, and slapped the boy's placating hand away. She turned to run down the corridor, and ploughed right into Xander. He gave a muffled "Ooof!", but she just dashed around him and away. The rest of the little group stared after her in shock and then quietly slinked off into their compartment.

Now what was that about, Xander wondered as he paced further down the train. Sports teams? School clubs? He'd never much cared about either, but knew that for others those were practically life-and-death issues. In fact, he'd known people who were literally willing to murder to be chosen for the cheerleaders. Or the swimming team, for that matter...

He found the Refreshment Witch a few carriages down, and got a large bag with an assortment of different wizarding candy. The witch introduced him to brown, fragrant Cauldron Cakes, and to the Chocolate Frogs Giles had coveted, which looked as if they were squirming in their wrappers. There were Huffing Cream Puffs ("New in our sortiment, from a pair of very creative young entrepreneurs"), and a paper bag full of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, which sounded like fun.

"You want to be extra careful with the green ones, love," the witch leaned forward to whisper in his ear confidentially. "Lots of the more unpleasant surprises tend to be green."

Xander paid with Giles' gold coin and left with his pockets rattling full of silver and bronze change. He was just about to step through the connecting opening to the front carriage when low, angry voices reached his ears.

I can't believe the midgets are still going at it, he thought, but the degree of malice in those voices convinced him that it couldn't be. He inched closer to eavesdrop.

"... really want to try again?" a male voice asked in the typical broken voice of puberty, aggravated by fury. "Just remember what happened on the ride home in summer."

"You think I'd let you pull that again, Weasel? Not when it's only three of you, instead of a carriage full of goons."

"That's so rich, coming from you!" interjected a female voice, high and angry.

"You know, I can't wait for the Dark Lord to get around to finish you, Potter. I just wish I could be there to watch."

"How dare you!" cried the girl again.

"Plan to give him a hand?" came another male voice, cold and slightly trembling. "Be a Death Eater like your father? I got him locked away, I'm sure I could do the same for you."

"Mention my father again, and I'll kill you!"

"Just go ahead and try - we can always stack you in some corner to ooze until Kneazles fly."

Okay, Xander thought, death threats are probably a bit much even for a magical school fight. Those guys sounded bitchier than Buffy and Cordelia in the corridors of Sunnydale High! All of the pupils he'd seen so far seemed to carry wands, and though he hadn't been appointed as a teacher, he was none too eager to explain why he hadn't interfered before dead bodies started to turn up...

"That's enough, I think!" he called out and rounded the corner.

The sight that greeted him looked like the showdown finale of The Gunfight at the O.K. Corral. Further down the corridor, three teenagers faced him: two boys, one red- and the other dark-haired, and a flustered-looking brunette girl with a book bag slung over her shoulder. The trio was facing off with another group: a snub-nosed blonde girl, dwarfed by two large boys whose build and stance reminded Xander of the security troll in the New York Portkey Station. The ringleader seemed to be a third boy with pale-blond hair and a pointed face. His colouring and posture vaguely reminded Xander of what Spike must've looked like as a youth. He hated the kid on the spot.

Hm, perhaps it's just grandstanding to show off in front of the girls, Xander considered, although Inner Xander was quick to point out that neither of them was attractive enough to spark off a brawl.

He cleared his throat. "I don't think that getting into hot water for fighting is the best way of starting a new school year," he stated when he had everybody's attention. "Why don't you just run along - in different directions," he added quickly.

The bushy-haired brunette blushed, but the others just stared at him angrily.

"They jumped us!" the redhead insisted hotly.

"It takes two..." Xander quickly swallowed 'to tango' and substituted "... to quarrel." The blondes and the boulders looked smug at that. The messily black-haired boy gave him a wounded look through thick glasses, while his redheaded friend glowered. It was the girl who grabbed her two companions' arms and pulled insistently.

"Come on," she hissed. "Malfoy is not worth getting into trouble over!" After a few terse seconds, they caved in and let her drag them off.

First crisis mastered, Xander thought smugly. Giles would be so proud.

He made to leave when the rodent-faced Spike miniature took a subtle step away from the wall he was leaning against, not quite blocking his way, but expressing the intention.

"So you're the mysterious Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher everybody was rumouring about? That vampire hunter?"

Xander shook his head. "It's the 'Slayer' - and no, she's always a woman. She's a friend of mine, but I'm going to work as..." he paused to recall the exact term, "... assistant caretaker."

A slow, delighted smile spread over the boy's sharp features.

"You're going to work under Filch? That's priceless." Xander just stared at him uncomprehendingly. "Filch is the most awful creature at Hogwarts, well, right after the former groundskeeper. He's a squib who hates everybody, always bangs about torture instruments, and has the nastiest cat in the world. They're going to make your life hell." He seemed quite excited about the prospect, and cocked his head, eyes trailing over Xander's street clothes. "So are you a squib too? Or a Mud-Muggleborn? I mean, no self-respecting wizard would work in such a position."

Great, Xander thought. Buffy only gets to be half a creature, and my job can't be mentioned in polite society. Damn you, Giles!

"Guess I'd be a Muggle," he remembered what the weird wizard had called him on the platform, only to watch an expression of shock spread over all four faces, the two boulders with a bit of time delay.

"Ugh!" the girl exclaimed. "I've never talked to a Muggle before. Dad would go into conniptions!"

"I'll try not to go public with it, then," Xander answered, voice heavily coloured with sarcasm.

"I can't believe it," the Spikeling shook his head. Xander had observed dirt under his fingernails with a more kindly expression than he wore. "Not even Dumbledore would sink so low as to allow a Muggle to set foot into Hogwarts!"

Inner Xander volunteered the option of punching the little bastard, but it probably wouldn't go down so well with the faculty.

"Perhaps he's less rednecked than you think?" Judging from the confused look on the boy's face, the barb had gone whistling right over his head.

"Do you have a name, then?" Malfoy inquired, and Xander was pretty sure it wasn't an attempt at small talk. "Even Muggles have names, don't they? Or numbers or something?"

Giles seemed to have his work cut out for him - not that he didn't deserve it, the secretive bastard.

"Xander Harris," he replied coldly.

"Xander? Did you borrow that name from the house-elf?"

"It's short for Alexander," Xander shot back. This was getting annoying.

"That's better," Malfoy drawled. "A real name - it makes you seem almost human."

"Unlike some who destroy that illusion as soon as they open their mouths?" Xander asked sweetly. There had been a time when his whole being would have curled in on itself at such a spiteful attack. But a few years of Anya blurting out the details of their sex life to the world and Spike perfecting his acid sarcasm at his expense had been of some use after all.

The boy surveyed him with almost morbid curiosity.

"So did you lose that," he pointed at Xander's eye patch, "for getting in the way of a wizard?"

Xander let out a soft breath of shock. He'd not been quite prepared for such a degree of malice. I shouldn't stand here and let this little... whatever... rile me, he told himself, but Inner Xander wouldn't let him walk away from it either.

"More like the servant of an evil demon who insisted on taking over the world," he shrugged carelessly.

"Did it hurt?" The boy's voice was suggestive enough to send a shiver down Xander's spine. Don't you wish? he thought spitefully.

He shrugged again. "Not really." Which was the truth, after all - pain doesn't register when you're deeply enough in shock. "But I was around a couple of weeks later when we kicked his ass and that of his master." Xander shot back an evil smile of his own. "So even if he was a wizard, it didn't do him a lot of good, right?"

An angry flash ignited in the blond's eyes. Gotcha! Xander exulted.

"And you think that you can take being that vampire hunter's friend as an excuse for forcing yourself on a world where everything from your blood to your name to your ridiculous accent is unwelcome?"

As if coming here had been my idea! Xander sighed inwardly and wondered just what kind of crime he'd committed in his last life to be haunted by a small-scale Spike clone even after the bastard was dead. But this one was definitely breathing, and the undead couldn't have kids.

"You remind me of someone, you know?" he said in his calmest voice. "Of a really evil bastard, who could make you shrivel up and hurt for days with a few words." He shook his head when he saw a flush of pride ghosting over the boy's face. "But then he was a neutered vampire, and the only way to make up for his lost killing instinct was to snipe at everybody with words." He looked down at the boy with a raised eyebrow. "Perhaps you shouldn't show that evil streak of yours quite so openly - it only shows how insecure you are."

Xander inclined his head in a polite nod and walked past him towards the front carriage, trying hard not to think about what those kids could do with their magic wands. Though he didn't really think they would attack him - not so publicly, anyway.

"You better make sure to keep to Hogwarts' towers, Muggle," little would-be Spike called after him. There was an edge of trembling anger in his voice, which pleased Xander immensely. "The Slytherin dungeons are a dangerous place for those with no magic to defend themselves."

Xander half-turned and gave the furiously glowering kids a smirk and a mock salute before slipping through the door to the next carriage. Only when he was absolutely sure he was out of sight he expelled the breath he'd been holding and slumped against the wall. What a messed-up bunch of little terrors!

If that kid were two hundred years old instead of fifteen, and had a side order of charisma and a dollop of personality to go with his Malice Menue Deluxe, he would have been a lot scarier, Xander mused.

Realising how his subconscious had gone from nervousness to quite emphatically insisting on food, Xander rolled up one of the Cauldron Cakes and popped it into his mouth. It was soft, moist, and tasted deliciously of cinnamon, pumpkin and several spices he couldn't identify. Two more cakes went the same way in quick succession, until he reluctantly decided to leave one for Giles and Buffy each.

He picked through the Bertie Botts' bag, carefully avoiding the green beans, and settled on a white one, which he popped in his mouth. Peppermint, he decided after a careful bite. No, not bad at all.

 

 **Next:**  
Hogwarts at last, Snape, many Sortings...


	4. Welcome to Hell, Pardon, Hogwarts!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, to Thea with love, for test-reading and approving of the slashy bits :). Spookykat's beta eliminated much of wordiness and un-Gilesy language, and added a lot of good lines and puns. One name has been filched from Anthony Hope, and another from the protagonist of the very best German horror series ever (in my oh so very humble opinion, *grin* ). And I quoted the title of Rilina's great fic _From Here to Timbuktu_ in sincere admiration.

"Wow!"

Giles smirked proudly when he observed Buffy's awed expression, and leaned back in the seat of the carriage. Of course, the first glimpse of Hogwarts castle was enough to stun anyone, wizard and Muggle alike. And discreet Muggle-Unrepelling Charms on the two purses Flitwick had given Buffy and Xander the day before ensured that these two particular Muggles were able to enjoy the view. And born Squib or not, Giles loved to see his usually cocky slayer impressed speechless by one of the landmarks of the wizarding world. It was a rare experience.

He had seen pictures of Hogwarts, of course, ever since his childhood addiction to the Tiny Thomas Magnus Goes to School picture books. But seeing the castle in person, even if it was from a bouncing carriage drawn by skeletal horses, was special.

The castle overlooked the surrounding landscape like a crown placed on a dark silk sheet; not a warlike fortress as one might expect from a structure so efficient at protecting its occupants, but a playful, multi-turreted masterpiece by an eccentric architect. Magical - there was no better word for it.

Xander, who had been very quiet ever since he'd returned to their compartment and had only once leaned forward to ask Giles over Buffy's dozing form, "What's Slytherin?", hung out of the other window and gawked just as much as the slayer.

Like a swarm of black beetles, the carriages were rumpling along the side of a lake that spread before the castle. A flotilla of flimsy boats was accompanying them on the water, obscured a little by the drizzle of rain outside.

"I'd just feel better if those skeleton horses came with a driver," Xander muttered, looking almost as green as he had when they had dragged his hung-over self out of the Leaky Cauldron this morning.

"It's magic, Xander," Buffy quipped.

"Yeah, well, it feels like going on a cruise with you behind the wheel," Xander quipped back, and Giles had to admit - secretly, of course - that it wasn't an invalid comparison.

Buffy huffed, as she had done oftentimes since trying one of the Huffing Cream Puffs Xander had brought back from his expedition on the Hogwarts Express. She kept her nose pressed to the glass of the carriage window, though.

As the carriages approached the castle walls until the grey stone boulders filled Giles' whole field of vision, a twinge of dread mixed with his anticipation. He'd grown up to the unvoiced but poignant disappointment of his family because the world symbolised by the castle whose main courtyard they were now entering was not his heritage. His lips thinned, set in grim determination. He would prove them wrong!

The terrible horses came to a stop on the cobblestones of the yard as soundlessly as they had galloped, and students spilled from the carriages. When Giles threw open the door, he observed how some of the children skirted precariously close to the deadly black hooves, but the animals - if they were animals - twisted their bony limbs out of the way to avoid collision.

As they started to drag out their trunks, a swarm of tiny students surged up from the mooring platform where the flimsy boats, now empty, were swaying. They were herded with shouts of "Firs' years, this way!" by a huge figure in a fur overcoat.

"Another security troll?" Buffy asked.

Giles recalled one of the articles he'd read on the train.

"It's probably the Care of Magical Creatures professor," he replied. "There was an article in the Daily Prophet two years ago claiming he had giant blood."

"Yeah, I can see why he'd be good at dealing with magical creatures," Xander threw in. "I bet he just wrestles them down." Xander slapped his trunk when it gave him another ardent look from under his arm.

"He's not gonna try and take care of me, right?" Buffy scowled. "Being a newly-appointed creature and all..."

Giles just snickered, feeling intense pity for the poor professor should he try.

They unloaded their possessions from the carriage in the constant drizzle, shouldered their trunks and made to follow the teeming, chattering mass of black-clad children into the castle. At the entrance, a tall, intimidating witch caught their eye over the crowd and walked over briskly.

"Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress," she introduced herself with a faintly Scottish accent.

Giles shook her hand, and decided that her firm grip fitted her no-nonsense attitude.

"Rupert Giles," he introduced himself.

"Minerva, please," she replied. "The staff doesn't believe in formalities."

"Gladly - Minerva," Giles said politely, and winced inwardly at the thought of being 'Rupert' for a year or more. He hated that name!

"Alexander Harris, ma'am," he heard Xander say, and couldn't suppress a slight lifting of eyebrow. He could count the numbers of occasions where Xander had volunteered his full first name on the fingers of one hand. The witch graced Xander with a smile that brought to life a number of small wrinkles around her eyes, and made Giles add another twenty years to his first age estimate.

Then McGonagall took Buffy's hand and a mutually probing look passed between the two women. "Elizabeth Anne Summers, I believe?"

"Um, yes," the Slayer stuttered. "Everybody calls me Buffy, though."

McGonagall frowned slightly. "Perhaps we should keep to the name on your application papers," she proposed in a voice that brooked no contradiction. Buffy scowled at Giles - who had faked said application papers in her name, of course - in outrage. "I'm afraid," the Deputy Headmistress added, "that one of Hogwarts' senior house-elves is called 'Puffy', and we wouldn't want to give the students ideas, would we?"

Her stern expression softened a little. "Miss Rosenberg told us quite a bit about you during her time here. How sad to hear she couldn't accompany you - a very talented witch, and so very studious. We had to fetch her out of the library for meals more than once. I hope you'll find Hogwarts' resources as helpful as she did."

"Uh, I'm sure," Buffy replied with a terrified expression.

"Anyhow, just leave your trunks - the house-elves will take them to your rooms directly." McGonagall paused and looked at Xander. "Your colleague, Argus Filch, is lodged on the ground level off the stairs down to the dungeons, but Albus and I thought that you'd probably prefer to live up in the South-West tower with your friends?"

One corner of Xander's mouth lifted in a smile that made Giles' neck prickle with foreboding.

"Off the dungeons will be perfect," he replied determinedly. "It'll save me a lot of running up and down the stairs, I guess. And I can always visit, right?"

"The Welcoming Feast is about to begin," McGonagall announced as they trudged behind her through the corridors, "and Headmaster Dumbledore would like to welcome you afterwards with an informal gathering in his study." She paused and rounded a corridor, pointing at a wide archway leading up to great double doors. "If you'll just follow this hallway you'll come directly into the Great Hall. The staff table is up on the dais - I'm afraid I'll have to dash and prepare the First Years for the Sorting." With an apologetic smile she turned and sped down an adjoining staircase.

"What's Sorting?" Buffy inquired. "You mean they only tell the kids now whether they have enough magic to stay?"

"Not quite - they're Sorted into school houses," Giles explained, racking his brain. "Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, and I've forgot the name of the fourth... it's not particularly popular."

"Didn't you say Slithering was the one nobody liked?" Xander wondered.

Giles' brow furrowed. "I guess nobody likes Slytherin, but still - better infamous than overlooked."

He stopped a few metres from the entrance to the Hall and pulled Buffy and Xander behind the statue of a big wizard with braided beard and an oily smile, even in marble. 'Siegfried the Smarmy', a tag introduced him.

"Look," he whispered to his two confused friends, "I'd wanted to give you this beforehand, but everything's happened so fast..." He pulled out two wands from the near-bottomless pits of his magician's cloak, and handed the longer, darker one to Buffy, the lighter to Xander.

"They belonged to my mother and my brother," he explained detachedly, surprised at how little the memory meant to him now. "Mahogany and unicorn hair," he pointed at Buffy's, realising that it was a combination spectacularly unsuited to her mercurial personality. "And birchwood and Erumpent hair," he told Xander. "My parents always suspected that my brother would have been a much better wizard with a less exotic wand, but he refused to even try another after seeing this one."

They eyed the wands with some suspicion. "Of course it's unlikely you would even get them to spark, being non-wizards," Giles pointed out, "but it'll help you to blend in much more easily". Then, as an afterthought, he added, "Perhaps it isn't wise to openly point out you can't do magic."

He noticed that Xander was looking at the floor shiftily and was shuffling his feet at that.

"Feel free to experiment with them, though," he amended. That prompted memories of the endless hours he'd spent in his bedroom as a boy, waving his wand, concentrating until his head hurt, and finally flinging the wand against he wall in tears when no sign of the magic that might still qualify him for Hogwarts appeared.

"Anyhow," he finished on a lighter note, "let's get a move on - I've heard that the Hogwarts Welcome Feast is quite spectacular."

They rounded the Smarmy and walked through the entranceway to the Great Hall, only to stop and gasp in awe. The Hall was huge, lit by floating torches, and the ceiling showed the translucent dark-blue of a summer night, with the occasional early star blinking sleepily in the artificial sky. If Giles didn't know that they hadn't come up any staircases, the illusion would have misled him.

"Wow!" Xander whispered.

"They have better weather inside than out," Buffy finally managed.

Four long tables decked in green, blue, yellow and red took up almost the whole length of the hall, and most chairs were already occupied. Giles fought a blush as numerous pairs of eyes fell on the trio that was so obviously rooted to their spots and gawking. To say that they stuck out like the proverbial sore thumb would be the understatement of the century, Giles thought, and being the object of such intense curiosity was more than a tad intimidating. In his library, he'd dealt with smaller groups of teenagers only, and had at least been able to retreat behind the shelves. Even having whole layers full of vampires glowering at him had not unnerved him quite as much as being stared at by hundreds of students, God-knew-how-many of whom he was supposed to teach.

Buffy tilted her chin in the direction of the fifth, much smaller table situated diagonally on a narrow dais.

"Up and at 'em!" she grinned. Giles lifted an eyebrow in response and grinned back.

Flanking the petite slayer, Giles and Xander followed her up the five steps to the dais. Little Filius Flitwick waved cheerfully as they approached.

A tall, ancient wizard with long-flowing white hair and an incredible amount of beard occupied the middle seat of the staff table. Albus Dumbledore rose when they came up.

"Ah, our dear new colleagues!" he beamed and shook their hands over the table, miraculously without tangling his beard in the cutlery. "I was so glad when Filius told me you had arrived in good spirits." He slipped his pince-nez down his long nose to peer at them more closely. "My dear Miss Summers, I'm most enchanted to make the acquaintance of such a famous champion of the Light." He winked at Xander. "And Mr Harris, I hope you'll enjoy the wizarding world and our humble castle. Perhaps you'll be able to assist Mr Giles in introducing a cross-cultural aspect to the school's Muggle Studies programme?"

Xander returned the smile happily - another one to fall to Albus Dumbledore's famous charm, Giles thought wryly.

As if the Headmaster had been reading his thoughts - well, maybe he had - one of Dumbledore's eyebrows quirked, and he smiled gently. Again, the Watcher felt the strange compulsion that had made him leave behind the home he'd made for himself in California to follow the old man's call.

"My dear Rupert, it is good to see you back in the wizarding world, and that you've managed to convince your friends to join us as well. I trust there was not trouble with the Castle's Muggle-Repellant Charms?"

Giles shook his head, but before he could stammer a greeting, Dumbledore waved his wand. The staff table shuddered and lengthened, new chairs, plates and goblets miraculously appearing before them.

"Sit, sit," the old wizard urged. "The Sorting is about to start, and there will be food soon. We'll have a little reception for you after the feast - we can continue our conversation then."

Buffy took the chair Dumbledore pulled out next to him, while the Headmaster leaned over to introduce Xander to a vicious-looking man with grey hair, a patched leather cloak, and an expression to send vampires running. If that was to be Xander's colleague, the Watcher thought with dread, he would owe the boy a boatload of favours to make up for dragging him here.

Just then the doors to the hall opened wide, and Minerva McGonagall walked in, followed by the beginners like a duck mother with her brood. The giant Care of Magical Creatures professor brought up the rear and made his way to the staff table, where he sat and eclipsed Professor Flitwick so completely that Giles worried for a moment that he'd sat down on the little teacher and just squashed him. But no - they were talking.

The Deputy Headmistress carried a three-legged stool to the front of the room, and placed an extremely scruffy hat on it. When it appeared that all eyes were glued to it, the hat shuffled a couple of times and declared in a booming, gruff voice:

"Last year I warned of discord  
With many an eloquent word.  
This year, since no one seemed to listen,  
I'll just go ahead and sort  
The loyal into Hufflepuff,  
Into Ravenclaw the bright,  
The cunning into Slytherin,  
And into Gryffindor the right.  
If you think life is that easy,  
The future sure looks grim.  
But while I hope it makes you queasy,  
I'll now kick back and shut my brim."

Everybody just gaped at the hat when it fell silent, and after a long moment Dumbledore adjusted his spectacles thoughtfully and began to clap. The hat received a half-hearted applause, which did not prompt it to an encore.

"Gruff little blighter," Xander murmured into Buffy's ear.

Finally, McGonagall read the first name from a roll of parchment in her hand, and handed the hat to "Avrill, Cygnus," who obediently put it on his head and received a snotty "Hufflepuff!" in return. The table on the far right exploded in yells and applause, and Giles slapped his forehead in exasperation - Hufflepuff! Rhymes with 'duffer', how could I've forgotten! The catcalls were repeated on the far left when "Baddock, Peregrine" became the first Slytherin, followed by "Fawcett, Lucas," who went to the Gryffindor table.

Giles' eyes wandered over the small, anxious faces of the waiting first years, and he consoled himself with the thought that Muggle Studies was reserved for third years and older, so his woeful unfamiliarity with (and not to mention loathing for) sub-teenage children would be a moot point.

One of his eyebrows rose as "Jugson, Elinor" was sorted into Ravenclaw. Xander clapped more vigorously than ever before at that and gave the tiny pig-tailed girl a thumbs-up across the hall. She blushed and scooted over to the blue-and-bronze decked table, where she almost vanished behind the tablecloth.

After "Zenda, Morgan" had become the last Slytherin, Professor McGonagall set the stool and grouchy hat in a corner and took her seat at the staff table. Then the Headmaster got up, the end of his beard dangling in his still-empty golden soup bowl.

"Now that everybody has found a home, let me quickly introduce a few additions to the staff before we get to the food." A few scattered groans could be heard, and Dumbledore chuckled.

"First, we are happy to have with us Mr Alexander Harris, who will assist our own Argus Filch in the upkeep of Hogwarts Castle." Giles noted an amused twinkle in the Headmaster's eyes as he gestured for Xander to rise. "He has not yet provided his own list of proscribed items, but may of course do so at any time."

The remark produced gales of laughter, and was quite obviously something like a running gag. Filch threw Dumbledore a murderous look, and the green-and-silver table to the left kept a sullen quiet, several of its occupants shooting furious glares at Xander. Giles couldn't help but wonder just what his friend had got himself into in the half-hour he'd been out of sight on the train.

"Since Professor Craven has decided to leave us at the end of the previous school year to battle his own demons," Dumbledore continued, "let me introduce to you our new Muggle Studies teacher, Professor Giles."

Giles rose, feeling uncomfortably clumsy and far too hot in his skin, and accepted his polite, but by no means enthusiastic applause, again exempting the Slytherin table. Unpleasant bunch! he frowned inwardly, not expecting to find many of them among his pupils-to-be.

"And finally," the Headmaster concluded happily, "we have Professor Elizabeth Summers, who will bring you up-to-date to the practical aspects of Defence Against the Dark Arts, which have so been neglected over the last year."

With nervous Bambi-esque eyes, Buffy got up to face the hall. The applause that greeted her was by far the most spirited yet, and approval was especially hearty from adolescent male students. When she'd slumped back into her chair, Dumbledore announced:

"And now, without further ado, tuck in!"

As if on command, the gleaming gold plates and goblets filled with food and drink. The familiarity of the dishes made both Giles' eyes and his mouth water. He reached for the nearest plate. Mint humbugs! Life couldn't get much better.

He piled several on his plate and started to eat while all over the hall the students fell to with all the ravenous enthusiasm of a werewolf snacking on a kindergarten. Busy for a long time with savouring the various delicacies, Giles noted that Xander, too, seemed wholly entranced by the contents of his plate. Buffy, on the other hand, was busy cutting a lone chipolata into thin slices next to an inordinate amount of green salad. Her expression was haunted.

"If we eat like this every day, I'll be looking as if I was about to 'bear young' in no time," she grumbled.

A throaty chuckle from across the table made them look up. A tall woman with a grey crew-cut and stunning golden eyes grinned at them.

"We'll have to take you out on a broom, then, dear," she chuckled. "There's no better way to stay in shape. We've got an amateur Quidditch side organised in Hogsmeade, and you're most welcome to join." The hawk-like eyes wandered over Buffy's figure. "You've got the build of a Seeker, Chaser maybe." The woman offered her hand across the table. "Wanda Hooch, flying instructor. May I call you Elizabeth?"

Buffy opened her mouth to protest, and closed it again, obviously recalling Puffy the House-Elf.

"Sure," she replied brightly, only to whisper into Giles' ear when Hooch's attention turned back to her food, "Over my dead body am I flying on a phallic symbol and playing with balls and cauldrons!"

"Balls, bats and hoops - it's Quidditch, not Quodpot," Giles sniggered.

"Oh, yeah, that makes it so different, then!" she growled.

Dinner proper was followed by dessert, and Giles watched Buffy's agonised mental struggles for a good ten minutes, before she finally succumbed to a treacle tart with a guilty expression that transformed into sheer bliss after the first bite.

"I figure it's magical food," she mused aloud. "Maybe they've found a way to make it less fattening."

One look at a chubby dark-haired boy over at the Gryffindor table made Giles doubt that, but was he going to be the one to break it to her? Not on a snow day in hell!

~ ~ ~

After the plates were finally cleared away and everyone - even the Headmaster - had acquired the dazed expression of sacrificial animals having been hit on the head with a hammer, the hall began to empty. It was Professor Flitwick, who had chatted animatedly with Xander during dinner, who led them to the Headmaster's study. Giles was so full he felt like having to take up Quidditch himself, airsickness or not.

Dumbledore's retreat was located at the very top of one of the highest towers, accessible through a wizarding escalator, and guarded by another one of those stone gargoyles the American Ministry of Magic was so fond of. It had better manners, though, and passed up the opportunity to leer down Buffy's cleavage as they walked by.

The office itself was crammed with books and a variety of magical artefacts that Giles couldn't identify. In one corner a tousled, red-golden bird swayed on its perch. Just as Giles observed it, another feather fell from its mangy tail and drifted gently onto the pile below. Despite the close quarters, a small table had been cleared and filled with an assortment of goblets and tea utensils. The walls were covered with life-sized paintings of witches and wizards, and McGonagall stood next to one showing a middle-aged, vaguely sinister-looking wizard, with whom she was conversing in low tones. Giles, who had been surrounded by painted ancestors throughout his childhood, did not start at the sight, but his two companions froze in their tracks.

"Amazing!" Xander whispered.

"Awful!" Buffy exclaimed. When two pairs of eyes landed on her in confusion, she elaborated, "Tartan plaid!" They followed her glance and found it glued in terror on McGonagall's off-duty robes. "That woman's a supernatural anti-fashion terrorist."

Giles sighed and Xander manfully suppressed his snicker as the woman in question threw them a suspicious glance. The Headmaster himself stood behind his desk, and smiled at them while speaking with a slender man in shabby robes, who looked slightly exhausted, and worried.

"... Poppy wanted him in the hospital wing at least for tonight, but you know how he is," he said as Giles wound his way over. "When he Flooed into Headquarters and landed at my feet I thought he was dead..."

Dumbledore put a hand on the man's arm to let him know they had company, and he fell silent.

"Ah, I'm glad you could make it," he said. "Let me introduce you to Remus Lupin, who will take over the theoretical aspects of Defence Against the Dark Arts. Remus, meet Elizabeth Anne Summers, your colleague."

Lupin smiled at her, and his drawn, nondescript face lightened up into something that was almost handsome as he did so.

"Great to meet you!" Buffy exclaimed. "Please call me Buffy." She said it with a smug smile and a 'So there!' look at the Deputy Headmistress, who stared back with a frown.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled with amusement as he reached out and took a piece of cloth from McGonagall. To Giles' surprise, it was the Sorting Hat.

"Now, since it's always possible that a member of the staff will have to fill in as an emergency head of house," the Headmaster said, "we usually hold a private Sorting for those staff members who haven't attended Hogwarts as students." He held the hat out to Xander. "Would you like to go first, Alexander?"

Xander took the filthy hat gingerly and sunk down on one of the antique chairs before putting it on. For a moment, he flinched and his eyes went wide, and then he listened with an expression of pure concentration.

"Hufflepuff!" the hat cried after a few long moments. Xander grinned apologetically at Giles, shrugged and handed the hat over to Buffy.

She eyed the dirty piece of felt with disgust and then put it on her head, only to snatch it off again after a few seconds, glaring at it furiously.

"I do not have a mind like a bitch!"

"Witch!" the hat squeaked.

"Oh." Buffy blushed. "Ok then." With one last suspicious look at the hat, she banged it back onto her head.

It deliberated a bit, before muttering, "Gryffindor."

No, it didn't surprise Giles at all.

"Well, well," the Headmaster uttered happily, and took the hat from a still somewhat embarrassed Buffy. "Your turn, Rupert."

It was a bit too small for Giles' head, but made itself comfortable on his hair after a little shuffle.

'My, what an interesting mind,' it nattered. Giles had been told by his brother how the Sorting Hat worked - "...can tell you, you'll never go there in your life, Rupes!" - but hearing its voice whispering right into his head still felt strange. 'Extremely loyal, and far less paranoid than others I could name,' the hat groused. 'Brave, too, and yet cunning enough not to rush blindly into danger... You are a challenge, Mr Giles. Any preferences on your part?'

Well, Giles mused, somewhat mollified, maybe I'm a Squib, but at least I have a brain.

Most of my family were Ravenclaws, he thought back. And... he blushed slightly, and I'd rather not be Hufflepuff, if it can be avoided.

The hat chuckled. 'For that, you'd almost deserve Slytherin. But I think you'd be suited better for - "Ravenclaw!"

"Congratulations!" Filius Flitwick grinned as Giles handed the hat back to Dumbledore, who hung it on a nail on the wall.

"Excellent!" the Headmaster exclaimed and passed around teacups and goblets of butterbeer. "Now that the formalities are all settled, let me again welcome all of you to Hogwarts." He paused and smiled, a bit slyly, Giles thought. "Of course I did not ask you to join us completely without an ulterior motive," he admitted. "With the renewed threat of Voldemort hanging over our heads, we are grateful for any assistance. According to an old prophecy, the boy with the power to defeat Voldemort is among our students right now, and the Dark Lord will stop at nothing to destroy him."

"A teenage boy slayer with a prophecy on his head?" Buffy mused. "Poor kid! That sounds very unpleasantly familiar."

Dumbledore nodded sadly, a sentiment Giles could very much sympathise with. He could only hope that this prophecy did not call for the death of the young slayer as a price for victory...

"So it was my hope that you would be able to provide young Harry Potter with an additional layer of protection," the Headmaster explained.

"Potter?" Xander threw in unexpectedly. "Sullen, angry kid with black hair and glasses?"

"You've met?" the Headmaster inquired.

"Ran into him on the train," Xander replied with a careless shrug and a carefully bland expression that sent all of Giles' alarm bells off.

"Moreover," Dumbledore said, "we may have to draw on your special field of expertise. According to our... sources... from inside Voldemort's ranks, we've learned that one stronghold of Death Eater recruitment are the mountain regions of the Balkans - Albania, Romania, Bulgaria. Among the giants predominantly, but those areas are also the heartland of the old vampire clans, and Voldemort had won many of them over to his side during his first reign already. We have to assume the worst, and it seems as if there has been at least one recent incident in Hogsmeade already. The presence of the Slayer, and her Watcher," Dumbledore added, glancing at Giles, "will be invaluable if there are truly vampire-related activities around Hogwarts."

Buffy's face lightened up at that. "You know," she smiled, "after all that magic, an ordinary vampire infestation sounds pretty reassuring."

"Well, it's not quite that simple," Giles started to object when the door opened, and his heart just - stopped.

He stared at the figure in the doorway, and his hand slipped into his pocket for the switchblade that hadn't been there for more than a decade. Familiar lanky black hair, billowing dark robes to put a bird of prey to shame, a crooked beaky nose to match, sallow skin, cruel eyes... Giles experienced a surge of hate so severe it threatened to alternately choke and shake him.

Trembling, he turned to Dumbledore - halfway, since he'd never turn his back to the monster - and said, in a voice far more shaky than he would have liked,

"Sir, this man is a Death Eater!"

"Eww, he's a ghoul?" Buffy exclaimed, disgust written all over her face. Neither Giles nor the newcomer paid her the slightest bit of attention, too busy staring at each other. The tense silence was broken by a short, barking laugh from the man in the doorway.

"What, this is the acquisition you were so smug about, Albus? Ripper Giles and his Girl Who Lived?" The voice was practically dripping with contempt, and Giles shook with rage.

"I'm happy that you've made it back, Severus," Dumbledore said calmly. He looked at Buffy and Xander. "This is Professor Severus Snape, our Potions master and head of Slytherin house."

Without taking his eyes of Snape, Giles repeated: "I am positive, Headmaster. Seventeen years ago, before I left Britain, Severus Snape tried to recruit us to the Dark side. He was the Dark Lord's prodigy, and Lucius Malfoy's lapdog. A Death Eater, and a murderer." He injected the last with a similar dose of venom Snape had used.

"Something we have in common, then, don't we?" Snape snarled.

"You twisted bastard!" Giles shouted. "You gave us that book, with the compliments of your 'Master'. Without you, Eyghon would never have happened, and Randall would still be alive!"

"I gave your lot the book, I did not force you to use it," Snape spat.

~ ~ ~

_"C'me on, Ripper," Ethan Rayne's voice singsonged behind his back, while his fingers kneaded the tense muscles in Giles' neck. "There are some really good spells in that book. And it's just a gift - no strings attached."_

_"With the Dark Lord there are always strings attached!" Ripper insisted._

_"But it'll be so much fun," Ethan's voice whispered against his ear. Giles shivered, delight mingling with apprehension, and acquiesced._

~ ~ ~

Giles could hear Snape's voice continuing, as distantly as if it came from underneath a foot of water.

"It was you who decided to summon demons for kicks, and who killed Randall Goyle when things got out of hand." Snape's mouth twisted into an ugly grimace. "Don't blame me just because you were too obsessed with shagging that smarmy Summoner Rayne to think with something above your waistline."

Giles flinched as if someone had run a rapier through his chest cavity. The blood drained out of his face, his lips turning cold with it. He heard Buffy's sharp intake of breath, and Xander's suppressed but audible whistle. In fact, using said rapier to throw himself on and escape the sheer humiliation suddenly didn't sound all that bad. He'd always dreaded one of Ethan's visitations to Sunnydale might result in this kind of revelation, but until now had always managed to beat him down before he could drop hints in front of the Scoobies. Hearing his past indiscretions mentioned with such callousness imbued Giles with a desire to kill as strong as when he'd still borne his unholy nickname in earnest.

"Summoner?" Xander finally asked, in a blatantly obvious attempt to steer the topic away from the danger zone.

"What we call a Muggle sorcerer," Dumbledore explained, unperturbed by the emotions roiling through the small room. "Wizards are born with magic, while Muggles have to resort to calling up outside powers - ghosts, demons, elemental spirits and the like - to bargain for power."

"And Rayne's little circle was well adept at those tricks before I ever met them," Snape threw in silkily. "Using their spells for Muggle-torture and harassment, and not to forget to satisfy their... urges. Otherwise the Dark Lord would never have noticed them, or targeted them for recruitment."

Giles' fingers curved into claws that desired nothing more than to choke off the air supply behind that voice.

~ ~ ~

_"Why are you so dead-set against it?" Ethan sprawled on the threadbare cushions of their lair's sole functional couch, a slight frown etched on his forehead. "It's not as if those wizards you're so defensive of ever bothered to treat you like a human being."_

_"You-Know-Who doesn't want us - he wants a few more expendable goons to do his dirty work," Ripper slurred, grasping for rational thought in the drug-dazed high of their afternoon summoning. "And he'd kill you - you're a Muggle."_

_Ethan swatted him. "We have Eyghon," he agreed and threaded his fingers through Ripper's hair playfully. "And I have you. Who needs Moldivort?"_

~ ~ ~

"Whatever we did, we never sunk so low as to serve He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" Giles shot back at Snape, rattled by the memory.

"You never worked against him either," Snape replied with a contemptuous sneer. "Instead, you tucked tail and ran after you killed young Goyle and freed that demon, and knew the Dark Lord would come after you - and if not him personally, then at least Goyle's brother and Malfoy."

"Now, Severus, Rupert," Dumbledore intervened at last. "We are on the same side now, and squabbling amongst us will do us no good at all. Rupert, I am aware of Severus' past - as I am of yours - and yet his help has been invaluable, and I trust him unconditionally. I am sure you will be just as invaluable, Rupert. I do not require the professors here to get along or even like each other -"

Lupin hiccoughed at that. Snape shot him an evil glare.

"However," Dumbledore emphasised, "I do expect you to behave in a professional manner in my presence, and to respect each other as colleagues."

Giles lowered his gaze, trying - and failing - to quell his rage. Snape just stared ahead with a hateful sneer etched on his lips.

"As I was in the process of telling our new colleagues, Severus," the Headmaster continued, "we are perhaps dealing with a vampire. A local Hogsmeade girl - a recent Hufflepuff graduate - was found dead under suspicious circumstances, and her body vanished soon after." He looked up, somewhat apologetically. "I'm not asking you to patrol there, certainly, especially not before you've had time to settle in, but I'll feel better having experts to consult on the matter, particularly if there should be another incident."

Snape leaned in and asked, in a clearly audible voice, "So you've made a career out of watching the girl fight evil, Ripper? I wonder how that's suiting your ego... you had such a reputation for being fast with a blade, or did you get that nickname for your sexual preferences?"

Giles saw red and made to get up, ready to punch the bastard's lights out, but - superhuman reflexes and all - his slayer beat him to it.

"Listen, Mister!" she snapped. "I don't give a damn about what Giles did in his past. He's one of the bravest people I know, and all of us owe him our lives a dozen times over. And just because he's too mature to get worked up over your childish insults-" a sharp but clandestine kick to Giles' shin warned him not to spoil that impression - "it doesn't mean I won't kick your ass from here to Timbuktu if you don't lay off him."

"And if she's busy dusting vampires, I will," Xander added, colder than Giles had seen him since the immediate aftermath of Anya's death.

Giles was torn between the impulse to pull both of them into a crushing hug and scream that he was able to fight his own battles. He decided on saying nothing, which looked like a good course of action when Dumbledore finally blew up.

"Severus, I know it has been a very trying day for you, but I won't have you taking it out on a colleague like that. I know I can't make you friends, but again, I expect a small degree of professional courtesy from you - from all of you." He rose and rubbed the back of his nose in defeat. "Perhaps it's time to call it a night - you must all be tired from your travels, and I have to admit that I am, too." He leaned back in his chair and gazed mournfully into his teacup.

McGonagall briskly turned to Buffy and nudged her over into Lupin's direction. "Perhaps you'll accompany us up to the towers, Elizabeth? I assume that you and Remus will be wanting to go over your plans for your class."

"And you might want to hurry," Snape threw in, eyes glittering with malice. "There'll be a full moon soon, and our dear Lupin will be... indisposed then, being the werewolf he is. Or has the Headmaster failed to tell you that?"

Giles watched Lupin sigh softly, and saw the tension that crept into his posture.

"Oh, like Oz?" Xander looked up. "Cool!"

"No problem," Buffy assured and grinned at Lupin. "We know how to handle that - my friend Willow's boyfriend was a werewolf. The locking up during full moon nights business is annoying, I know, but if you're worried we can always order for a tranquiliser gun."

Reflexively, Giles rubbed his buttock and determined to intercept the owl with that order before it could even trundle out of the window.

"Severus, would you mind showing Mr Harris to his quarters? You have the same way."

Professor McGonagall's voice was pointed enough to brook no contradiction, and so Giles watched Xander trailing off after Snape and throwing death glares at the greasy hair on the back of the creep's head.

Giles himself walked up towards the towers next to the Deputy Headmistress, while Buffy and Lupin followed after, whispering. He and McGonagall kept a tense silence - she made to say something a couple of times, but caught herself every time. Giles wondered whether she was shocked about hearing his unglamorous past revealed, or was just generally angry about the fight in the Headmaster's office.

She dropped him off in front of an ornate oaken door, and showed Buffy into the room next to it. Giles could see that his slayer was itching to interrogate him - her twitching fingers gave her away - so he very quickly excused himself, feigning exhaustion.

~ ~ ~

He breathed a bit easier after the door had fallen securely shut behind him. The room was quite beautiful, with dark wooden furniture, enough bookshelves to hold half his Sunnydale collection, and a huge four-poster under a blue canopy with bronze linings. Ravenclaw's colours - either the Divination teacher was a real genius, or the house-elves had an amazing spy network and had jumped to the task immediately after his makeshift Sorting. His trunk and book bags were already waiting next to the bed.

It would have been tempting to explore his new haunts, but he could feel the feigned tiredness beginning to overtake him, and decided that the four-poster looked very tempting after all.

He locked the door, dug out a pair of pyjamas, and crawled into bed.

Perhaps tomorrow things would look brighter. Perhaps tomorrow today would be revealed as a nightmare.

Yeah, right!

 

 **Next:**   
The return of the Hogwarts Duelling Club...


	5. En Garde!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, to Thea with love, and of course for her birthday! Hugs to Spookykat for the beta!

"Remind me again why I volunteered for this?" Buffy Summers asked her companion as she skittered to a halt when the staircase she'd been about to set foot on detached itself from the landing and swung in a graceful arc to the opposite side of the chasm it had been bridging.

Remus Lupin grinned, which made his eyes sparkle and reminded her very much of Xander at his most mischievous.

"You as good as promised Filius," he said, his smirk broadening if that was possible at all. "It's his life's calling to raise a new generation of duellists at Hogwarts. And things have gone well so far, haven't they?"

That much Buffy had to grant. So far, the three classes of the day had consisted of her perching on the teacher's desk while Lupin had handed out class schedules and given the preparatory lectures. She hadn't been called on anything more than to regale the kids with a few stories of vampire slaying. They had seemed fascinated enough, apart from that Smith guy, who had had the nerve to ask, when she introduced Mr Pointy, whether that stake was to be understood as a symbol as well as a weapon.

"I thought you Brits were supposed to be polite!" she'd complained to Lupin on the way to the Great Hall for lunch, who had just snickered.

When they entered the Great Hall now, it looked like the entire school was milling about there, and then some. Tables and chairs had been moved to the side. They were hovering in mid-air, stacked almost to the ceiling which was showing a cloudless, starry night.

The centre of the room was empty but for a few teachers. Buffy recognised the Gandalf-type figure of Headmaster Dumbledore, who was beaming down at Professor Flitwick. The tiny professor was waving his wand about and seemed to do his best not to dance with excitement. Over his shoulder hovered the bat-like shape of the Potions prof, Snape.

Buffy craned her head and made out Giles and Xander at the front of the student crowd. She threw a wistful look in their direction, but got identical smirks and headshakes in return. Damn! No escape there.

Following Lupin, who was cutting a path through the tightly packed crowd, and ignoring a wolf-whistle from somewhere at the back - you couldn't punch your own students, even if they asked for it, right? - they crawled up to where the headmaster was standing.

When they emerged from the crowd, Dumbledore included them in his all-purpose beam and raised his wand.

"Sonorus!"

A throat-clearing cut through the hall like feedback at a Metallica concert, and the crowd went quiet.

"Now that all interested parties have assembled," Dumbledore announced, "let me welcome you to this revival of the distinguished Hogwarts Duelling Club." He beamed - no surprise there - at the hall.

"Professors Flitwick, Lupin, Snape and Summers have kindly offered to sacrifice some of their sparse free time to enable this project." He nodded at them, and scattered applause filled the hall, interspersed with a few shouts.

"Considering that there are dark times looming ahead, brushing up on our duelling skills seems advisable, and I hope this will be a worthwhile venture and a continuation of some... student initiatives of the previous year."

There was a snort from behind, and as Buffy turned her head, she heard a blond upper-year snort to his neighbour, "How quickly we've come from him training his own private army to 'student initiative'."

The girl next to him shrugged without taking her eyes of the headmaster. "Bloody Gryffs!"

"Now, while I propose that in the future we'll split up into groups for practicality's sake, each of you with one professor," Dumbledore continued, "tonight I think a general demonstration seems to be called for." He paused to enjoy the awed "Aaahs" and "Ooohs" from the crowd, oblivious a stray yell of "Batty old show-off!"

"If Professor Flitwick perhaps would be so good as to choose a sparring partner-"

There was an audible cough, and then a silkily sinister voice insinuated itself when the headmaster stopped to look.

"Perhaps we shouldn't overtax Filius after he's done all the work organising this... venture," Professor Bastard presumed.

Poor Professor Flitwick looked totally stumped, his mouth hanging half-open, which conveniently prevented any protestations. The headmaster lifted an eyebrow and cocked his white head with an expression of mild interest.

"You would be willing to participate in the demonstration yourself, Severus?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Gladly, Headmaster," the bastard purred. Urgh! Buffy thought. He sounds as glib as a post-coital Parker.

"I'd be happy to-" Lupin sighed and took a step forward.

Snape favoured him with a grin that displayed sharp, yellow teeth.

"Oh, thank you, Lupin, but I have to admit I'm quite curious about the expertise of our new Defence Colleague."

His voice rose into a challenging question-like tone at the end, and he favoured Buffy with a look as saturated with derision as his hair was with oil.

Buffy suppressed a shudder at the thought and lifted an eyebrow instead. He dipped into the merest shadow of a bow and did a challenging wand wriggle.

At least Buffy hoped it was challenge, not innuendo. The whole wave-your-stick business was vaguely disconcerting after sitting through Maggie Walsh's lecture course on Freudian Thought at Sunnydale College.

"Now, Severus, you know that-" Remus interjected with another sigh, running his hand through his slowly-greying hair. Buffy sincerely hoped she'd not add to the colour change too much.

"Oh, no, Mr Lu-, Remus," she interrupted quickly and graced the oily bastard with a smile that was all teeth. "We don't want to rob the students of an educational experience, right, Mr Snake?"

"Professor Snape, Miss Summers," Snape hissed in a tone that indicated he was even less amused than Queen Victoria.

Buffy batted her eyelashes at him. "So sorry. I'm just horrible with names."

"And that's the God-to-honest truth," she heard Xander whisper against her neck from behind. There was a muffled "Ouch!" when she delivered a kick to his shin.

"Shall we find out whether you are equally forgetful with hexes, then, Professor Summers?" Snape murmured.

"Whenever you're ready," she grinned, although she didn't feel quite as confident any more as she observed him stalking towards the empty centre space of the hall. Dramatically billowing robes aside, he didn't look like much of a threat, but she'd seen enough of those people's magic tricks to be worried about said hexes. She looked back over her shoulder as she followed. The headmaster looked mildly interested; Remus Lupin looked worried. Giles looked downright frantic. Uh-oh...

Buffy slipped her hand into the pocket of her dress - no, robe - as she took her place opposite Snape on the duelling floor. A vile grin was etched about his narrow lips as he bowed to her.

"You will move into opposite directions, and at the count of ten, turn and cast your magic," explained Flitwick, who had taken the referee's place. Obviously he had noticed that Buffy had not the faintest inkling where this was going. He smiled up at her encouragingly.

Buffy let her fingers wander over the contents of the elbow-deep pocket of her skirt. They clenched around Mr Pointy in fitful desire before she let go with a sigh. Tempting as it was, she couldn't well stake the bastard, even if he looked like Dracula's great-grand uncle. Instead, she closed her hand around the other piece of wood that floated among lipstick, perfume dispenser and mascara tubes in the roomy pocket.

Of course Giles had said that she wouldn't be able to get the wand to spark, but heck, everybody lugged them around, she resolved as she stood back-to-back with the damn scarecrow of a wizard. So she could at least look cool until the time came for drastic measures.

"Ten steps, turn and fire away," Flitwick reminded them, and Buffy took a very deep breath as she stared out at the sea of expectant faces crowding around the duelling corridor.

One, two - just why the heck did I agree to do this? - three, four - Giles is gonna kill me! - five, six - nah, I'm gonna kill Giles! - seven, eight - what the heck am I gonna do? - nine, ten-

She whirled round, wand raised like a conductor intimidating a recalcitrant orchestra.

Ok, wand, do something! she thought at it.

Unsurprisingly, it didn't.

She flipped to the side as a burst of red light rushed at her. It went whistling over her head, and fizzed out at the end of the duelling space.

Buffy jumped up only to get an eyeful of Snape's angry face as he screamed another spell.

"...sortia!"

Buffy gulped as the body of a red-and-black patterned snake was coming at her, whipping the air furiously. She yelped and went into another evasive dive. The snake impacted on the floor with an outraged hiss, twenty feet away. There were squeals and a rush away from the audience closest to it.

Ok, that does it, Buffy snarled inwardly. I won't stand around and be pelted with reptiles!

She hurled the wand, useless thing that it was, at the snake for distraction, and - with a prayer to the goddess of female dignity to keep her from flashing the entire hall in that bloody skirt - went into a series of flip-flops. Aim: one greasy bastard Snape!

The nameless goddess was kind. Instead of rolling along in a tangle of cloth, she came up to her feet just within arm's reach of Snape. He gaped and tried to aim that wand again, but Buffy allowed a cold little smile to settle on her lips. She picked the wand out of his hand in a heartbeat, and delivered an almost gentle - for Slayer standards - kick to his midsection that had him doubling in half like a switchblade snapping shut.

She snapped his wand in half for good measure, and turned to look for the snake, only to see it fizzle out on the floor into so many reddish sparks.

There were shrieks and applause from the students, the majority of whom seemed beside themselves with delight. A gangly redhead in the front row was practically dancing on his toes, held upright only by the efforts of his two companions.

Buffy lifted an eyebrow at the headmaster, who was making his way over. Behind him, Giles had his head buried in his hands - what was wrong now? She had won, right? - while Remus Lupin looked at the fallen Potions professor with a constipated expression on his face. Either the lamb stew from dinner had caught up with him, or he was trying very hard not to laugh.

The headmaster reached down to pull a still-wheezing Snape to his feet. The bastard was even more singularly pale than before, and slightly hunched over. He cradled the remains of his wand and fixed Buffy with a death glare that rivalled Angelus's.

"Now that certainly was a... spirited and... unconventional performance," Dumbledore's voice boomed through the hall, soothingly mild, to calm down the overall ding a little. "Please, Filius, Remus, would you divide the students into groups and hand them their schedules?"

"Unconventional?" Snape hissed as the immediate attention of the students was occupied, acid dripping from every syllable. "A travesty of every codex of magical duelling in existence, you mean?"

"Oops," Buffy murmured, trying for a modicum of contrition, and failing badly. "There are rules?"

Snape did not even look in her direction.

"I will not acquiesce to the destruction of my wand, Albus! It was my grandfather's, it has been in the Snape family for generations, and Ollivander does not even use snake scale cores any longer!"

"I'm sure we can arrange something, Severus," Dumbledore promised and patted the bastard's shoulder encouragingly. "After all, a wand custom-made for you will give you better service than an inherited one, as Ollivander keeps pointing out. The school fund will most certainly take care of the costs, since your wand was evidently lost in the course of duty." Snape looked as if he was about to reach up and strangle the headmaster. "You look exhausted, Severus - would you like someone to accompany you to the hospital wing?"

"I'm perfectly fine, headmaster," Snape snarled before turning on Buffy. "This is not forgotten, Madam Summers!"

He whirled around and stalked towards the exit, the crowd parting before him like the Red Sea. The students were fitfully trying to wipe the grins off their faces as he passed.

The headmaster uttered a small sigh as he watched his departure.

"Elizabeth, I assume you're quite exhausted yourself," he said with a kindly smile.

Buffy gulped in air to protest that of course she wasn't when she realised he was giving her an excuse to escape the omnipresent stares.

"Yes, really, I am. Absolutely. Out like a light," she nodded, feeling her cheeks burn.

She grabbed Giles's mother's wand from the floor, stuffed it into her pocket and made for the exit.

Hoo boy, did I eff up or what? she thought as she squeezed past her Watcher. "Bye, Giles," she mumbled.

It was just a piece of wood! she fretted inwardly, stomping up the stairs with a nervous look around from time to time. Snape might just lie in wait to push her down one of those floating staircases...

Who'd have thought those magical sticks were so fragile?

~ ~ ~

Buffy spent the following hour with her head on the table of her room and then, when that became too uncomfortable, sprawled on her four-poster in a sulk. There had been a knock at the door a while ago, but she'd played dead. It was probably Giles, and she wasn't yet in the mood for a lecture. She couldn't have known that a wand was such a big deal! It was Giles's fault for not cluing her in on that minor detail! And Dumbledore's! And Lupin's! Somebody could've had the decency to let her know!

The knock repeated itself, and this time it felt just too childish not to answer again. Giles deserved better, and she had that carefully brushed under the carpet fling thing of his with Ethan Rayne to hold over him if he got too preachy.

She sighed, slipped off the bed and opened the door.

"Look, Giles, I'm really sorry I-"

She stopped. And shrieked, jumped back and brought Mr Pointy out of her pocket in a split second.

The creature in front of her shrieked just as shrilly, dropped the tray it had been holding, and stumbled back, one spindly hand clutching at his - its - heart, the other held up in front of its head.

"Locomotor Amphoris!" a voice rang out, and the bulbous pot was arrested in mid-plunge while cups and saucers met their shardy doom on the stone floor.

"Sweet professor... Tumbler didn't... Tumbler just..." the monster thing babbled.

"It's just one of the staff house-elves," Remus Lupin said, grabbing for the floating pot.

It was anything but a tinkerbell, Buffy thought as she threw a closer look at the thing. It about reached her hip, was small, bony with over-large ears and fingers, and the ugliest little face she'd seen since the Turok-Han invasion. And that included the whole batch of trolls.

"Tumbler is sorry he frightened mistress! Tumbler is a bad house-elf! He should be kicked out of Hogwarts, yes!" It bent to the ground, ears brushing the floor, to pick up a saucer shard. "Tumbler will punish himself, mistress."

It raised the shard to a spindly arm as if to cut a vein.

Lupin quickly reached down and took it out of its hand.

"No harm done at all," he told it kindly and waved his wand. "Reparo!"

The shards melted together into perfect china, hopped onto the tray, and finally the floating pot settled down on it with a gentle thud as well.

Under Lupin's prompting glance, Buffy let out the breath she'd been holding, put the stake away and gave the elf-creature a wavery smile.

"So sorry, Tumbly. I've never seen an elf before. I'm, um, pleased to meet you."

The creature gave her a smile so wide she feared its head would split.

"Mistress is pleased to meet Tumbler! Mistress is called him Tumbly!" Overcome, it burst into noisy tears, dabbing its eyes with the corner of the lacy pillowcase it was clad in.

"I think I can take it from here," Lupin told it with a smile. "Thank you for accompanying me."

The bawling increased until the elf vanished into thin air with a watery *pop*.

"I'm sorry I startled you," Lupin said. "But I didn't want to walk all the way up from the kitchens without a hand free for my wand, just in case Severus thinks I put you up to it."

"Oh!" Buffy realised he was still standing in the corridor, and stepped aside quickly. "Please come in."

Directing the tray to float before him with his wand, he walked in and set it down on the table.

"I had hoped to see you in the staff room, but then Professor Giles said he couldn't find you either, so I thought you might be hiding here. I wondered if you might appreciate a cup of hot chocolate?"

Buffy smiled faintly as one of the cups flipped off the tray and the pot rose to fill it with a fragrant, steaming liquid.

"Thanks," she said. "I think I just might, if you join me." She paused. "I really f... messed up, right?"

He waved for the pot to pour him a cup too, and then settled down on one of the chairs, toying with the cup's handle.

"No, I don't think you 'effed up' too badly." A tiny smile crept into the corners of his mouth. "To be honest, Severus face when he went down was... entertaining, at the very least." The smile morphed into a grin. "Almost makes me wish I had put you up to it."

Buffy took a sip of her chocolate. It was strong, rich, with a touch of saffron, cinnamon and the same mellow spices as the cauldron cake Xander had gotten her on the train. She sighed blissfully as it filled her with warmth.

"It was, wasn't it? Though I'm sorry about his wand - I didn't want him to get the drop on me again, and I had no idea they were so valuable."

"They're a wizard's most personal possession," Lupin explained, taking a swallow from his own cup.

Buffy's face fell a little, and he began to rummage through his pocket when he noticed. He produced a book, then a few marshmallow-textured candy mice that shivered on the cover, and finally a large, silver-wrapped slab.

"Here, have some chocolate."

Buffy eyed the creamy dark bars covetously, but hesitated.

"I'll be needing larger-size robes any time soon," she complained weakly.

Lupin raised an incredulous eyebrow. "I doubt it. Wizarding chocolate is made with Soothing and Revitalising Potions to help people through the aftermath of magical attacks - so trust your Defence against the Dark Arts expert."

"Well, if it's medicinal," Buffy quipped and broke off a piece.

"And Albus was right," Lupin added. "Many of the old pureblood families keep their wands in use for generations, and while a relative's wand will serve you better than a stranger's, it'll never be quite as much an extension of yourself as a custom-made one." He shrugged. "Tradition - it gives gifted Muggleborn students an advantage that the old families resent." He smirked. "So I wouldn't be surprised if Severus wasn't quite as outraged underneath all the bluster, especially with Dumbledore shelling out for the new one."

"You seem to know him pretty well, considering how much he dislikes you," Buffy commented around a mouthful of chocolate.

"We went to school together," Lupin shrugged. "My best friend Sirius pulled a prank on him that almost got him killed by me in wolf form. He's hated me ever since."

"Oh," Buffy said. Yes, being near-dismembered by a werewolf might result in a bit of bad blood...

"And since he's the only one around who's able to brew the potion that renders me tranquil during full moons, I try not to aggravate him too much."

"Is he going to give you grief over this?" Buffy asked worriedly.

Lupin reached for one of the chattering candy mice on his booklet and popped it into his mouth in an almost feral gesture.

"Ice Mice." He chewed. "Don't worry. I'm the only one left of his old school enemies since Sirius died, and he needs an outlet for his anger. I'm used to it."

He eyed the last mouse, which squirmed towards the corner of the table. Buffy shoved it back in Lupin's direction, suppressing a twinge of pity. Moving or not, it was just freezing candy! Still, she kept her eyes on the book as he grabbed the mouse by its tail and stuck it in his mouth.

"DEPRESSING DRAUGHTS AND MELANCHOLIC TONICS?" she read out loud.

"Confiscated it from one of my sixth year Slytherins during the Duelling Club session," he explained. "They made quite a statement out of how they'd rather study Potions for Snape than pay attention to me..."

Buffy sighed and took a sip of chocolate. Yes, she could just see why.

"Never mind, though." Lupin gave her a lopsided grin. "I wondered if you might be interested in a bit of exploration of the wizarding world? Next week is Hogsmeade weekend, and the headmaster will want as many teachers as possible out there with the kids for security's sake. There are some interesting stores and pubs in Hogsmeade, and," his grin turned decidedly wry, "there is the Shrieking Shack, said to be the most haunted building in Britain."

Buffy felt a warm glow suffusing her stomach, and smiled. And paused.

"I'd like that very much." She hesitated. Oh, heck, spit it out! "I don't know very much about your wizard customs, so don't be angry if that sounds blunt, but..." You're seriously babbling there, girl! "Are you asking me for a date?" she blurted out, and cringed. Smooth, Summers!

There was a few seconds' uncomfortable pause. Lupin's face didn't exactly close off, but it... emptied, somehow.

"No," he replied quietly. "I thought you might like to see the sights, perhaps take your friends as well."

There was a flutter of - it's not disappointment, Summers! her conscious yelled at her subconscious at a mental volume that made her wince. But his matter-of-factliness bothered her far more, because it didn't even seem to be dipped in resentment, or resignation.

"I know that-" he started in a tight voice, and Buffy realised that yes, it had to be borne out of a lifetime's reactions like - or even more damagingly subtle as - Snape's.

She put her hand over his, and he fell silent.

"No, you don't understand. Believe me, you don't." She picked up a piece of chocolate, looked at it and put it down again. Frowned when it left a smear on her thumb. She glared at it intently, waiting for him to say that there wasn't any need for an explanation.

He didn't.

"Look, before I came here, I... lost somebody. Somebody I cared about, even if I only realised that after he was gone, and I treated him like dirt when he was around..." Oh no, I won't blubber! she glared and tried to swallow around a hot tightness in her throat. It was, she realised, the closest she'd come to speak about - Spike, dammit! - since his death, having developed the habit of surreptitiously stepping out of whatever room the topic came up in.

"That's why I asked," she finished. "Because I don't think I could do the dating thing just yet."

Lupin smiled very slightly, and refilled her cup.

"I was being honest when I said I was not asking for a date," he said. "Two months ago, my lover was killed in a battle with the Death Eaters. The one Snape hated so much. Harry Potter's godfather." He stared at the empty pot as if observing it from light-years away.

"Sirius was in Azkaban - wizarding prison - for over a decade, innocent, and I took him for a murderer and traitor." He gave a short bark of a laugh. "He forgave me for that, I never figured out how. And then he just went and got himself murdered..."

Buffy gulped. "God, I'm so sorry. All that, and here I went assuming... and then assuming you'd be even interested in girls, when I really should know better..."

That got her a wry grin after all.

"Oh, I'm not immune to female charms. I've never been attracted to blokes in particular... just Sirius."

Buffy pondered that with a strange feeling of deja-vu.

"I think I know what you mean," she nodded at last. "I really don't have a thing for vampires either - just Spike. Well, and Angel..." She flushed.

"Vampires?" Lupin asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Well..." she stalled, flushing even deeper.

They shared a conspirational grin over the last dregs of chocolate, tension exorcised for the moment.

"So," Lupin asked lightly, waving his wand at the china, "think you're ready to face the masses again in the morning?"

"Those, and my Watcher," Buffy affirmed. "And, Remus...?" He looked up from the cups scurrying across the tabletop to return onto the tray. "Thanks. I'm really looking forward to that severely haunted shed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, but this is it. I fell out of love with the concept, and then out of Fandom altogether, so this will remain unfinished. Thanks for reading this far, however!


End file.
